


Not So Stoic

by evilwriter37



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Bondage, Drugging, Execution, F/M, Fisting, Forced Eye Contact, Forced Orgasm, Frottage, Gags, Gang Rape, Glove Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, PTSD, Public Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Sounding, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Whipping, Whump, hiccup!whump, mentions of mass rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 97,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: Hiccup is on Berk recovering from drowning, and Viggo uses the sleep-deprivation caused from the Midnight Sun to attack. Without help from the Dragon Riders and with Hiccup still weak, Berk is taken. Upon their attempted rescue, some of the Dragon Riders are captured, giving Viggo more pieces to his game of thrones, heirs, and suffering.





	1. Chapter 1

Stoick’s hopes fell when Hiccup was dragged into the hall. He’d been hoping that, once he’d realized Berk was losing, he’d be able to get away. The Dragon Riders were over on Dragon’s Edge, sent back to guard it while Hiccup recovered from a bout of pneumonia he’d gotten from drowning. Berk hadn’t expected an attack and had been ill prepared for one. The Midnight Sun caused sleep deprivation, but those who attacked them had been prepared. The Dragon Hunters had clearly planned ahead of time to take advantage of the time of year.

Hiccup was being hauled in, struggling the whole way, behind two large men that had an air of authority about them. Stoick recognized one of them as Ryker. The other was clearly his brother. He was a bit smaller than Ryker and had dark hair. His clothing and armor were more refined. He was a step ahead of him, clearly the one in charge here. Stoick knew exactly who he was.

Stoick shifted a little in his Gronckle Iron chains, making himself sit up straighter. The Hunters who had caught him had found it funny to chain him to his throne. He’d fought and strained, but he was tired like everyone else on Berk, and Gronckle Iron wasn’t something to be broken by human hands. Besides, fighting his restraints at the moment would be undignified, even though he worried for Hiccup. He had to save his energy for an escape that would actually work, not some useless tugging.

“Viggo Grimborn, I presume?” Stoick’s voice was nearly a growl. He was furious, ready to slaughter. He’d seen a number of his people killed that day, and, chained here in the Great Hall, he’d been forced to witness worse. There were cries and screams from the people who had taken shelter in here, mostly women, but some men too. Even without looking he knew what Viggo’s Hunters were doing, but he’d made himself look anyway.

The younger man, who looked to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties, responded with a small smile. He stopped in front of the throne, folded his hands behind his back.

“Good guess. Most people usually assume it’s Ryker. Ah, that’s what happens when you’re the younger brother.” His voice was smooth and he spoke with a different accent than what Stoick was used to.

Stoick wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. He tightened his hands into fists, his knuckles cracking. “Command your men to stop.” His voice seethed with rage.

Viggo looked to either side, studied what was happening. His face was terrifyingly passive. How could he view something so horrible and not react? “Hm, I don’t think they’d be inclined to listen to me. Besides, they fought hard. They deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

“My _people_ are not a reward!”

“Well, not like you have any money to take.” He smirked when he said it, and Stoick’s eyes narrowed. That was entirely Viggo’s fault, and the man was taking joy in it.

“Then what do you want?”

Viggo paced a little. Well, strolled was a more accurate description - _strolling_ as if he were in a peaceful forest enjoying the sunshine instead of in a hall where the floors and pillars were stained with blood and cries occasionally echoed off the high ceiling.

“Oh, just basking,” he answered. “Not every day you conquer your opposing tribe’s homeland.”

“So that’s why I’m still alive?”

“Precisely,” Viggo said, turning back to him. “More fun to gloat in the face of the living than the dead.”

“Viggo, quit it!” Hiccup yelled. The outburst was sudden, as he’d so far been quiet the whole time. “Whatever you plan on doing with us, just get on with it!”

Viggo laughed lightly and shook his head while turning to Hiccup. “Hiccup, Hiccup, you of all people know I like taking my time. Better to savor a moment than let it be whisked away.”

“You’ve got a fucked up view of what should be savored,” Hiccup retorted. Stoick didn’t hear his son swear often, but he knew he was prone to it.

Ryker turned on Hiccup now too. “And _you_ should keep your mouth shut.” He raised a hand to hit him, but Viggo took him by the wrist, stopped him.

“No, he’s entertaining when he talks.”

Ryker huffed, lowered his hand. Stoick was glad for that. He was so much bigger than Hiccup. He’d seen Hiccup take a hit from him before, and that had knocked him unconscious.

Stoick wanted to take the attention away from his son. He didn’t want him hurt. Viggo was a businessman. A deal of some kind would probably interest him.

“Viggo, how about we make a deal?”

Viggo turned back to Stoick, eyebrows raised. “Oh? What were you thinking of?”

“Anything that will get you to leave.”

“Hm…” He folded one arm, stroked his beard in thought. “I have a good one. I take your son and his dragon, and then I go. Sound good?” Viggo made a gesture behind him, and the two Hunters pushed Hiccup up to stand closer.

That definitely did _not_ sound good. “What the Hel do you want Hiccup for?”

“Someone new to do the laundry.”

Stoick just looked at him in silence, unable to read if he was being serious or not.

Viggo suddenly laughed quite heartily. He even slapped his thigh. “I jest, Stoick! I wouldn’t keep him around for something so _boring_.”

“Then _what?_ ”

For the first time, Viggo actually looked a little surprised, though for all Stoick knew, he could have been feigning it. He glanced at Hiccup.

“You haven’t told him?”

Hiccup just clenched his jaw and pursed his lips into a thin line. There was terror in his eyes. Stoick’s stomach frothed with anxiety.

“Do you want to tell him or should I?” There was a hint of satisfaction in Viggo’s voice.

“ _Don’t_.” Hiccup said it firmly.

Viggo huffed through his nose in amusement, returned his gaze to Stoick, who was ready to burst from horrified anticipation. What could this man possibly want with Hiccup that he’d refused to tell him about?

“Well, Stoick, I hope you don’t mind if I put it bluntly,” Viggo said pompously. “I’d like to fuck your son till he’s screaming like a girl. Though, that shouldn’t be too hard. His voice isn’t particularly deep.”

Stoick’s mind shut down. He just became rage and fury, the emotions so strong he couldn’t see. He roared, tugged at his chains as hard as he could. If he could just _break_ them! He’d escape and turn Viggo into a pulp on the floor. Then Ryker, and all the Hunters. They all had to die horrendously, but first Viggo.

Sensation came back to him some time later through the sound of rich, taunting laughter. His vision came back, his breaths heaving. A red film came over everything with each beat of his heart, and through that he saw Viggo laughing with his head thrown back, laughing at _him_. His wrists stung something horrible, and he looked to see that the chains were still there and completely unscathed. Scarlet trickled out from underneath them. His next look was to Hiccup. He had his head stubbornly staring straight ahead. His lip trembled and his eyes were misty.

Hiccup’s voice was a rasp when he spoke. “Dad, maybe if it stops all this-”

“No!” Stoick bellowed. He’d never yelled at Hiccup so loudly before. “You are _not_ allowed to sacrifice yourself! Not to this monster!” He fixed a glare on Viggo. “Take me instead. Kill me, torture me. I don’t care. Just don’t _touch him_.”

“Mm, see, that’s the problem. It’s not as satisfying when you don’t care,” Viggo said. He shook his head, clicked his tongue. “So selfish of you to not let Hiccup make his own decision in this.”

“Don’t talk of decisions when you want to rape him,” Stoick snapped.

Viggo shrugged. “Rape, sex, fucking - all the same to me as long as I get what I want. And what I want is Hiccup writhing underneath me.”

There was a particularly loud cry from one of the darkened corners of the hall. Tears slipped from Hiccup’s eyes.

“Dad, please.” His voice was weak despite his words. “I just want this to stop.”

“We _need_ you, Hiccup.”

Viggo rolled his eyes and gave an overly dramatic sigh. “Fine. If the both of you are going to be like this, I’ll just do it right here.” He nodded to the Hunters restraining Hiccup. “Get his clothes off for me.”

Hiccup’s eyes went wide. “Wait, Viggo! Not here!” The Hunters began tearing away at Hiccup’s clothes with no care to how they damaged them. Hiccup struggled in their grip, but they were both bigger and stronger than him. Hiccup’s symptoms from the pneumonia had abated, but he’d been left weakened by it and wasn’t up to his usual level of strength either. He had no chance, and Stoick couldn’t _stand_ it. “Not here! Please! No!”

Good gods, how was this happening? How had Stoick gotten here, chained to his own throne and being forced to witness his son’s rape? _How?_

“Here seems like the perfect place to me.” There was a cruel glint in Viggo’s eyes. Stoick felt sick. He was _enjoying_ this.

Hiccup shouted wordlessly in anger and terror as his clothes were torn off of him. His fighting was useless, and eventually every inch of skin was bare. He looked stuck between trying to hide himself or trying to run away. He settled for the former. There was no way he could outrun anyone right now.

Viggo nodded _cordially_ to the two Hunters. “Thank you. You’re no longer needed. You can go find something to entertain yourselves with.” The sounds coming from other parts of the hall. No, they were probably going to join in on defiling his people. _No._ “Ryker, get him on his knees.”

Stoick was heaving with fury. He yanked at his chains again, his wrists protesting. Thor, Odin, anyone, just let him get out of this and help Hiccup and his people!

Hiccup wasn’t free for long. As soon as the Hunters left, Ryker was there. Hiccup yelled out protests as he roughly grabbed him and shoved him onto his knees. He probably scraped them on the stone floor. Viggo was undoing his spiked belt and Stoick wanted to be sick. He couldn’t help thinking of what a man his size could have between his legs. He didn’t want Hiccup to deal with that against his will.

Ryker had one hand on Hiccup’s shoulder, and the other was around his neck, lifting his jaw. There was a cruel smile on his face.

Viggo carefully ran his belt through one hand. The spikes looked to be sharp and not just decorative. “Now, Hiccup, if I even feel your teeth, I will be hitting you with this, do you understand?”

Hiccup gave no vocal answer. Instead, he spit at Viggo’s feet. Stoick would have been proud of his stubbornness save for the fact that in the next second it earned him a hard slap from Viggo. Ryker repositioned his grip on him to hold his jaw and force his head back towards Viggo.

Viggo set the belt down and stepped forward, was now moving aside his tunic to get at his pants. There was a visible bulge and Stoick hated that he was looking, but he felt like if he didn’t look he’d be abandoning Hiccup, leaving him to face this on his own.

Viggo sighed as he pulled himself free, and Stoick’s urge to kill him just grew. Hiccup had his jaw tightly set, his eyes shut.

“Viggo, get that _thing_ away from him or I swear I’ll-!”

“Do what, Stoick?” Viggo glanced to him with a small smile. “Make your chains rattle? So very threatening.”

“When I get out of here, I’m chopping off your cock and feeding it to you,” Stoick told him coldly, dead serious.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before, and yet it’s still attached to me.” Viggo now looked to Hiccup. Stoick’s vision turned red. The man stroked a hand through Hiccup’s hair. He could see that he was trembling. “Be good and open up, my dear.”

Hiccup made an angry sound in his throat, but kept his mouth shut.

“It’s for the best,” Viggo continued to coax. “Need something to wet me or I’ll tear you.”

Hiccup made no motion. Stoick couldn’t help wondering if the little lubricant that saliva provided would even prevent that. He wasn’t too fond of looking at another man’s aroused member, but he wanted to know what Hiccup had to go through. Viggo was big, to say the least.

“Alright, if that’s how you’re going to be.” Viggo reached down and pinched Hiccup’s nose. Hiccup struggled, tried to pull his head away, but he was trapped.

“Stop!” Stoick shouted. “You’re going to kill him! He just had pneumonia!”

“Not if he’s good and opens his mouth,” Viggo said, clearly uncaring of Hiccup’s illness. Hiccup was fighting against all the hands holding him, making choking noises in his throat. His face was turning red.

Stoick watched with bated breath. He almost hoped for Hiccup to open his mouth. If he did he would be allowed to breathe, and with the weakened state his lungs had been left in, he definitely needed that.

“You run out of air faster if you struggle,” Ryker told Hiccup. “But it is fun to watch.”

Stoick didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually, Hiccup couldn’t do it anymore. He opened his mouth wide, gasping, coughing, gulping in air. Viggo at least gave him that reprieve to let him catch his breath, but once he had, he was shoving his cock into his mouth. Luckily, he let go of Hiccup’s nose so he wouldn’t be completely asphyxiated.

Ryker laughed as Viggo sighed. “How does my brother’s cock feel in your bratty mouth, Hiccup? _Finally_ something to shut you up.”

“Mm, he does have quite the attitude for royalty.” Viggo placed a hand on the back of Hiccup’s head. His eyes were still tightly shut. “I wonder if it can be fucked out of him.”

“ _Stop_ ,” Stoick pleaded. “I swear, I’ll do anything.” He’d never been reduced to begging before, but this was Hiccup, and he loved him more than anything and couldn’t stand to watch him suffer. “ _Please_.”

“Anything?” Viggo tilted his head towards him.

“Yes.”

Viggo’s expression twisted into one of malice. “Then shut up and watch your brat take cock like a whore.” He brought his attention back to Hiccup. He began making small thrusting motions with his hips, not that far into his mouth at the moment. Hiccup made a sound of anger and discontent.

“Mm, that’s right.” Viggo’s voice was satisfied and husky, something that turned Stoick’s stomach. “Your mouth is quite the treat, my dear Hiccup. Oh, the way your lips stretch around me.” He groaned. “He does have very nice lips, Stoick. I quite like it when he pouts.”

Stoick nearly gagged. He did _not_ want to hear what this man found attractive about Hiccup. He feared for when he would comment about the rest of him, and he surely would. He had full reign over the situation, and he was taking joy in that.

Viggo’s thrusts steadily went deeper, and it wasn’t long till Hiccup was gagging and choking. He brought his hands up to Viggo’s thighs, trying desperately to push him away. It did nothing with both Viggo and Ryker restraining his head. Stoick actually hoped that Hiccup would be compliant at the moment. He didn’t want him to bite and feel the hit of that spiked belt. It’d easily tear through flesh, and he didn’t want Hiccup’s blood added to the stains on the floor.

Ryker laughed, looked to Viggo. “You think he’ll bite you?”

“Not if he’s smart, which he’s proven to be.” He ruffled Hiccup’s hair _affectionately._ There was bile burning in Stoick’s throat. “Haven’t you, Hiccup?”

A muffled sound of distress and protest came from Hiccup. His eyes were scrunched up tight and he was visibly shaking. He clearly had to fight with himself to not bite Viggo, and Stoick knew the taunting only made it harder for him. Hiccup was one to do things out of spite, to want to prove people wrong.

Viggo moaned as he buried himself to the hilt in Hiccup’s mouth, which left Hiccup with his nose pressed right into his pubic hair. He wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“ _Oh_ , his throat is so good.”

Ryker smiled cruelly. His huge hand ran down to Hiccup’s neck, fingers squeezing. Hiccup clutched harder at Viggo’s thighs, but didn’t move.

“How is it swallowing my brother’s cock?”

“Do you like it?” Viggo crooned, petting his hair again. Hiccup made a muffled sound of complaint, clamping down harder with his fingers. Viggo hissed a little bit. “Ryker, get his hands off of me.”

Ryker was quick to grab at Hiccup’s hands and yank them hard behind his back. He only needed one hand to do that, and his other went back to grip hard at Hiccup’s jaw. Hiccup’s face was turning red, choking sounds coming from his throat, his chest heaving. He struggled a little, but wasn’t able to manage much. Stoick prayed for Viggo to let him breathe soon.

And he did. He pulled all the way out with a pop that made Stoick scrunch his nose in distaste. Hiccup left his mouth open, desperately sucking in air. After a few moments of that Viggo was back inside. His thrusts were far from shallow this time, and obscene sounds rose from Hiccup’s throat each time he entered it.

Viggo moaned with each thrust, and when he glanced briefly over to Stoick and gave him an open-mouthed smile, Stoick realized that he was being loud about it on purpose. He was making the pleasure he was getting from using Hiccup obvious as a way to taunt him. Stoick pulled on his chains, a growl rising from his chest. His wrists hurt.

It felt like much too long before Viggo stopped and slipped out of his mouth. Hiccup was left choking and gasping. He spit up blood.

Viggo stroked a hand over Hiccup’s throat. “Apologies, my dear. I forgot myself in my need for you. Take it as a compliment.”

Hiccup opened his eyes, glared up at Viggo. There was blood in the corner of his mouth. “So pain is a compliment now?” Stoick was surprised Hiccup said nothing about what Viggo had called him. There was ice in his stomach when he realized that maybe he was used to it.

“It’s a tad deserving, don’t you think?”

Hiccup sneered. Stoick had no idea how he was retaining his attitude. Unless it was for show. He was trying not to break in front of him. “Go jump off a bridge.”

Ryker snorted. “Apparently you have to try harder, Viggo.”

“Good. I was just about to.” Viggo nodded his head towards one of the tables nearby. “Get him on that on his back.”

Hiccup shouted as he was hauled upwards. Ryker easily lifted him right off his foot and prosthetic, carried him over to the table kicking and yelling. Viggo stepped aside so as to avoid any blows. There was a smile on his lips. Stoick wanted to tear his face right off of him. He kept pulling on his chains, but all it did was hurt his wrists.

Ryker slammed Hiccup down onto his back with his legs over the side of the table, then wrenched his arms up and out of the way with one hand, the other pressed into a shoulder hard enough to bruise. Hiccup writhed and spit and kicked. He aimed a blow at Viggo with his prosthetic as the man approached him. Viggo simply caught it in one hand, wrenched it off of him, and Hiccup gave an angered cry. The prosthetic landed on the stone floor with a clang. Stoick blanched when he realized he held the belt in his other hand.

There was no threat or warning. He dashed it hard across Hiccup’s stomach, and Hiccup screamed as it tore his flesh in a diagonal line. It wasn’t at all a neat tear. Stoick could deal with wounds, but not so well when it was on Hiccup.

While Hiccup was left trying to recover from that, Viggo dropped the belt and took ahold of his legs, forcing them open to let him step in between them. Now Hiccup was truly very stuck.

Hiccup had his head turned away from Stoick, and there was a sound akin to a sob. It wrenched at his heart. He wished Hiccup would look at him so he could do his best to instill him with strength through his gaze, to let him know that he was here, but what even was the point? He could do nothing to help him get out of this. There _was_ no getting out of this.

“There, there, Hiccup. Be still and I won’t hurt you again.”

Ryker laughed. “Kind of wish you would. It’s good to finally see him cry.”

“Indeed.” Viggo ran a hand over Hiccup’s heaving chest. “Now, let’s get a good look at you.”

Stoick didn’t know why he was still watching this. There was no one forcing him to keep his eyes open, but he felt like if he closed them he’d be leaving Hiccup alone, and he didn’t want to do that to him. Granted, it was probably what Hiccup wanted. Earlier he hadn’t told Viggo not to do it. He’d just told him not to do it in front of him. It left Stoick unsure. He kept having to blink tears out of his vision. There was nothing to stop them rolling down his face.

Hiccup yelped and squirmed when Viggo pinched and twisted each of his nipples. His hands didn’t stay there long though, went down his body while being careful of the bleeding wound in his stomach.

“Ryker, why did you tell me he’s scrawny?”

“Because he is.”

“Not with all this lovely muscle in his core.”

Stoick again had to swallow back bile. He feared that he would be sick at some point.

Viggo touched each of Hiccup’s thighs, stroked over them in a praising manner. “Ooh, these are beautiful. Got this muscle from dragon riding, I assume?”

“G-go ride a dragon’s dick and find out.” Hiccup’s voice was much weaker than before. Stoick hated hearing the terror in it.

“Well, that would be assuming that your Night Fury still has one,” Viggo responded.

Hiccup whipped his head towards Viggo, wide-eyed, cheeks stained with tears.

Viggo laughed lightly, shook his head. “I’m only joking, darling. That part of your dragon is quite valuable while still attached to him. I’m sure a breeder would want to buy him and see if any half-breeds can be made.”

“Where is he?” Hiccup’s voice shook with rage, his eyes now narrowed.

“Safely muzzled and caged.” Viggo’s hands were still running over his thighs. Stoick feared for when they would go between them. “No need to worry.” He glanced at Stoick. “Same goes for your dragon. They sell better when they’re alive.”

Stoick cared a great deal for Skullcrusher, but finding out he was safe made all his feelings again focus on Hiccup.

“Get your hands off of him!”

“ _No_.”

All of Viggo’s attention went back to Hiccup, and Hiccup gasped and threw his head back as one of Viggo’s hands went between his legs.

“Mm, good length,” Viggo commented. His tone of voice made it sound like he was appraising an animal. Maybe in his head he was. People couldn’t matter to him if he was letting his Hunters rape while he did the same. “Lovely head.” Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut and moaned, making Stoick think he was probably touching the part in question. He wasn’t paying attention to that. He watched how the blood from the wound rolled down his side and pooled on the table. “Ooh, nice slit. Looks good for sounding.”

Stoick figured he didn’t want to know what the Hel that was.

Ryker made a sound of disgust. “Don’t do your freaky shit in front of me.”

“Calm down. I wasn’t planning to.”

Hiccup made an ugly groaning noise. His adam’s apple bobbed as he choked on tears. Then his mouth was just open in hard pants.

“Come on, Hiccup. Get this hard for me.”

“Why do you care?” Hiccup spat.

“Well, I’m not planning on making this all bad,” Viggo told him. “Hm, I know just the thing.”

Viggo lowered himself over Hiccup, wrapped his arms under his legs to position them at his shoulders. Though the spikes on his pauldrons weren't sharp, the position couldn't have been comfortable. Hiccup whined. He tried twisting his body, but it must have pulled at the bleeding tear in him, because he then gave a cry and stopped moving. Ryker simply laughed at him.

Viggo lowered his mouth between Hiccup's legs and Stoick gave a shout, tugged hard at his chains. He could feel them cutting into his flesh rather deeply now.

"Get off of him!"

Viggo simply hummed in answer, not lifting his head. Hiccup moaned and sobbed.

Ryker grunted. "Pathetic. Look at him. Crying over getting head. Never had your cock sucked before, boy?"

Hiccup twisted his head, strained against Ryker's hands. "Gods, please stop."

"Him or me?" Viggo asked, not lifting his head.

"Fuck! _Both_ of you! Let me _go!_ "

"But you're so delectable," Viggo said. He moaned a little, but the sound was muffled, and Hiccup cried out. Stoick was beyond angry. This was worse than Hiccup being physically hurt. He was being pleasured by someone he didn't want it from, forced into it with his protests and struggles ignored.

A few moments passed, and then Hiccup sobbed loudly.

"Yes, that's it," Viggo crooned. "Good, Hiccup."

Stoick tightened his jaw. It was clear what had happened. He didn't know what to do, what to say. His tears fell harder. He hoped Hiccup didn't blame that on himself.

"What are you crying for?" Ryker asked. "I don't think Viggo used his teeth. Scared of having your cock sucked? Is that it?"

Hiccup twisted his head, gasping for breath. "Sh-shut up."

"Has that Astrid bitch done it for you yet? Huh?"

"Not your d-damn business. _Ahh..._ "

Viggo eventually pulled himself up straight and released Hiccup's legs. Though, he wasn't done with him yet. He placed an elbow on the table and grabbed at him. He sucked on two of his fingers with his other hand, and then he was reaching down. Hiccup whimpered, shifted, but he was stuck. Stoick's blood burned. He gave an angry roar, tried his best to pull himself free from his chains, to stand up, tear them, charge at Viggo. Nothing of the sort happened. He came back to himself with his wrists burning worse and his energy uselessly spent. Hiccup was crying.

"Relax and this won't hurt so much," Viggo said to Hiccup. "Let me in and I'll show you something wonderful."

Stoick knew what he was talking about. He'd had discussions with Gobber, had even felt it himself once or twice. He knew what the prostate was, how good it could feel, but he didn't want Hiccup to have to experience that from this monster.

" _Stop_."

"You know I'm not going to, so your only other option is to relax."

Hiccup muttered a curse, but then seemed to take his advice. He started pulling in deep breaths. Viggo smirked, and then Hiccup was moaning from deep in his chest.

"Yes, there you go, darling. Good, isn't it?"

Hiccup didn't answer him, just moaned again. Stoick hated the sound. He felt like he was being forced to invade Hiccup's privacy. He shouldn't know what Hiccup's noises of sexual pleasure sounded like. Hiccup shouldn't have been forced to make them.

"You like that, whore?" Ryker asked. "You like having something in your whore ass? You better, because it's all you're getting anymore."

"Don't call him that!" Stoick shouted.

"Mm, you _are_ being incredibly crude, Ryker."

"Says the one with his fingers up someone's ass."

Viggo shrugged. "It's necessary if I don't want to tear him." The two were talking like there wasn't a crying man being held between them.

"I'd just let him bleed. Well, if I actually planned on fucking him."

"I know that, Ryker," Viggo said with some annoyance. "But you're not the one fucking him, now are you? And you're not allowed to either. Hiccup's mine."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that. Made it pretty clear on the way here. Not like I want to anyway. I like cunt better."

Stoick was sickened listening to their conversation, especially with Hiccup stuck between them, tears coming in a continuous stream now. His sobs were interspersed with moans.

Oh gods, Viggo was taking ahold of one hip now, and his cock with the other. Stoick shut his eyes. Hiccup was pleading with him. His words went unanswered.

Hiccup shrieked, started bawling, and Stoick knew what had happened.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Hiccup cried.

Viggo groaned, huffed out a laugh. "But I'm almost there, sweetheart."

"Get _out!_ "

"Hm, I'm surprised you're screaming so much," Viggo commented. "Thought you would try to be strong for your dear old father. Or did you forget that he's watching?"

Stoick felt eyes on him, knew they were Hiccup's. He couldn't leave him alone for this. He opened his eyes, met Hiccup's pained and terrified gaze. He tried his best to instill strength into him, to silently let him know that this would eventually be over, that he could get through it.

Hiccup mouthed the words _"Help me",_ and Stoick's heart shattered to pieces. Rage captured him, imbued his world with red, and he tugged on his chains as hard as he could, agony flaring through his wrists and straight up his arms. He needed to get to him and save him!

Art by [dazzlingmagicfox](http://dazzlingmagicfox.tumblr.com/).

He couldn't. He just couldn't. Human strength, even as mighty as his, could do nothing to break Gronckle Iron.

"I'm sorry," Stoick sobbed. "Hiccup, I'm so sorry."

"Aw, what a heartfelt moment." Viggo took Hiccup by the jaw and turned his head facing him. "But I want you looking at me."

Hiccup looked like he wanted to swear, say something insulting, spit on him, but he did nothing of the sort. Viggo started moving his hips, the motion gentle somehow, and Hiccup's mouth fell open in a breathless moan. He kept his eyes open and staring at Viggo. Everyone knew that he'd be hurt if he didn't do exactly as he said.

Viggo moaned as well, side-eyed Stoick for a moment to again let him know he was being loud on purpose. Then his eyes were back on Hiccup.

"You feel exquisite, my dear Hiccup," Viggo breathed. "Like velvet."

Hiccup said nothing. Tears kept welling in his eyes and falling, but he wasn't sobbing now, simply moaning in response to what was being done to him.

Ryker huffed. "Look at that. Get a cock in him and he goes nice and quiet." He chuckled. "Sounds like he's enjoying it."

" _Ah_ , it does indeed."

Stoick hated it when Viggo picked up his pace, because then the sound of skin slapping together was added to the horrendous spectacle. He hated that Viggo was being loud about using his son, that he was gloating over what he was doing. He hated the sounds Hiccup was making, hated that he couldn't help it. It wasn't right for him to tell Hiccup to take it quietly, though he wanted to. People endured suffering in their own ways, and this was Hiccup's. Despite how it hurt him, he had no right to dictate how he made it through this. That was up to Hiccup, not him.

Stoick wasn't sure how long it lasted. It became a haze of crushing pain in his chest, of moans and cries and cruel laughter, of terrible pain in his wrists from tugging he couldn't seem to stop. Viggo kept Hiccup's head turned towards him the entire time, and Hiccup didn't break eye contact. He'd stopped struggling altogether, knew that there was no point to it and that he simply had to wait until this finished.

It did. Well, more correctly Viggo did. Then he leaned over Hiccup, kissed him on the mouth, and as much as Stoick wanted Hiccup to put up a fight and bite him, he realized how stupid that would be. Hiccup didn't bite him, and Viggo moaned happily into his mouth. His hand went down to touch Hiccup's cock. He stopped kissing him, but kept his lips close. Viggo murmured something that Stoick couldn't hear, that was only between them.

Stoick couldn't _stand_ it when Hiccup orgasmed. He shouldn't have been made to, shouldn't have had his body betray him like that. Regardless of what shouldn't have happened, it did, and Hiccup was writhing under Viggo and releasing breathless moans. Viggo laughed and kissed him again. Stoick wondered if he'd cut himself down to the bone with his chains yet.

Stoick was left in a haze. Viggo finally moved off of Hiccup and put himself away. He called some of his men to him, and Hiccup was dragged off the table and hefted over a shoulder like a sack. He wasn't moving. His eyes were open, but they just stared blankly at nothing. It was done. He'd been raped. Stoick wanted to crumble under that. He felt like his entire abdomen was constricting, being stabbed. His ribs were breaking and his heart was being doused in flame and agony. He roared. Viggo smiled. 


	2. Chapter 2

Stoick and Hiccup had been taken to their own house of all places. Apparently Viggo thought it funny to imprison them in what should have been a place of comfort and safety. Stoick didn’t want to be separated from Hiccup, but he was taken up the stairs to his room. Meanwhile, they attached Stoick’s chains to the rafters, realizing that there was no furniture in here as heavy as his throne. They pushed all the furniture to the edges of the room in case he would use it to escape. The chains gave him room to sit on the floor, but that was it. One of the Hunters that had brought Hiccup to his room was carrying chains, and he came back without them. Hiccup was just as stuck as he was. 

Stoick half expected Viggo or Ryker to follow them in, but nothing of the sort happened. Someone did go up to Hiccup, and Stoick heard him say something about cleaning and bandaging his wound. There was no sound of a struggle. He came back down with blood on his hands and left.

Silence encased the house. He felt alone despite being able to sense Hiccup’s presence above him. There was movement, a rattling of chains, then silence again. The air was pregnant with tension, with unspoken words, feelings left ignored. Stoick didn’t know which of them was going to speak first.

Time passed. There was a quiet sob from above him. Then another.

“Hiccup.”

Nothing. Just crying. Stoick realized he didn’t know what to say to him. He looked down at his manacled hands. There was blood drying all the way down his fingers. His wrists burned to Hel and back and he was beyond tired. He looked around the house, but he couldn’t reach anything, and he’d been stripped of all his weapons. He was stuck. 

“Hiccup, are you able to reach anything?” He knew his son kept a spear and a short sword in his room, along with a few daggers. Though, he didn’t know how he’d been chained. “To get out?”

“ _ No _ …” It was a despairing moan. “I-I’m chained t-to my bed.”

Stoick swallowed hard at the implications of that. 

Fast, panicked breathing. “H-he’s gonna come f-for me. Oh gods, h-he’s gonna… It’s gonna happen again!” Hiccup broke down into sobbing. Stoick clenched his jaw, his chest caving in. He hadn’t wanted to think about it but he knew in his gut that Hiccup was right. Well, not unless they managed to work a way out of this.

“Hiccup, Hiccup, we’re not going to be stuck here forever,” Stoick told him. He knew that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be raped again, but at least there would be an end. Maybe. He drew a shuddering breath. He wanted to wipe at his tears but he’d just get blood on his face. “The Dragon Riders. What about them? They’ll know something’s amiss sooner or later.” Hopefully not later.

Crying.

“Hiccup.”

Sobs.

“Hiccup, please talk to me. What about your friends?”

“S-sent Terror Mail,” Hiccup managed to get out. He started coughing. His lungs were still weak and not pleased about what they’d been put through. Now he was crying and coughing at the same time and it sounded like he couldn’t get a breath. Stoick wished he could rush up to him and hold him and somehow make it better. He was relieved to hear that a message had been sent though. 

“Hiccup, calm down.” Stoick kept his voice as steady as possible. “You need to take a deep breath, okay?”

A desperate, agonized wail came back to him, then choking and heaving. The sounds were frightening, especially coming from his child.

“Please,” Stoick went on. “I know you’re hurting, but-” His voice broke and he had to try again. “But you need to breathe. You can’t do this. You’re hurting your lungs.”

Gasping, spluttering, then a rushed inhale. More coughing. Shallow breaths that were gradually growing deeper. After a time, Hiccup went quiet again.

“Okay, you sent Terror Mail,” Stoick said. “Did you have time to explain the situation?”

“No,” Hiccup responded hoarsely. He coughed again. “J-just used one of our codes in case someone found it. They’ll come as fast as they can but… gods, it could take th-three days.” He sounded like he was about to start crying again. There was a strangled noise in his throat, but then nothing came of it. “Dad, I don’t know what to do!”

Stoick didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t know what to do either. He closed his eyes, something terrible coming to mind. Hiccup had a better chance than anyone at manipulating Viggo because of their relationship, but he couldn’t tell Hiccup that, couldn’t tell him to do anything of his own volition. Hiccup wasn’t stupid. He was probably already thinking of it. He didn’t want him to do that though. He couldn’t bear thinking of Hiccup doing that for anyone, and he’d feel like an utter monster if he said it out loud. No. They’d have to find another way.

Stoick took a deep breath. “Endure.”

  
  


Hiccup had done his best to cover himself with his blanket. His wrists were chained to the headboard, but the length of the chains allowed him to sit up and pull his hands in front of him. They didn’t allow for much else though. 

He wanted to clean himself, wanted to take a bath so hot that it burned and his skin turned red. He still had… gods, he still had Viggo’s seed on him. It had trickled out of him and was now left sticky on the backs of his thighs. His own was still on him as well. He was equally sickened by both. His enemy had orgasmed in him, and had forced him to reach his end. He wanted to cry again but his lungs ached. 

Everything hurt. The slash on him was terrible and throbbing, there was a burning in his lower abdomen, and his throat ached abominably. 

Then there was the pain in his soul. He’d been raped. He’d been raped in front of his  _ father _ . He felt like the action had taken his humanity from him.

Then there was what Viggo had said to him alone with his lips so terribly close.

_ “You’re going to make a very good pleasure slave.” _

Hiccup wanted to be sick. The idea of that man doing that to him again…

But he would. Three days. A lot could happen in three days.

_ Endure.  _ He could do that, couldn’t he? And if not for himself then for his dad. Tears welled in his eyes. Unless Viggo moved one of them, he was going to hear everything, and Hiccup hated himself for not being quiet earlier, for crying and screaming and then for showing pleasure he hadn’t wanted. His face flamed red with shame and mortification shoveled out his gut. His father had seen him weak. 

“Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Hiccup, what-” He sounded absolutely stunned. “What in Thor’s name are you apologizing for?!”

“I… I should have just taken it quietly. I shouldn’t have hurt you like that.”

“That’s not your  _ fault _ ,” Stoick insisted. “We all handle suffering in different ways. It’s… it’s okay.”

“But it hurt you.”

A moment of silence. 

“I think it would have hurt me just the same if you’d been silent.”

Hiccup grit his teeth for a moment before speaking. He’d become aroused despite the pain and embarrassment. He’d climaxed. “It was weakness.” 

“He was controlling your body,” Stoick told him. So he must have known what he was referencing. “It’s not your fault. Hiccup,  _ please  _ don’t think it’s your fault.”

“But it is.”

“Did you want any of what happened in there?”

“No, but-”

“No buts. You didn’t want it. End of story.”

Hiccup felt a bite of frustration about Stoick not seeing his perspective, but then again, maybe he was right. He hadn’t wanted a single bit of that, and Viggo had tried his best to arouse him and get him off. He knew how to make someone’s body act against them, and that’s what had happened. His body had betrayed him.

Hiccup wanted to apologize again. If he hadn’t taken the Dragon Eye, if he hadn’t gotten involved with Viggo, none of this would have happened. He should have just left well enough alone. Because he hadn’t, his people had been dragged into a war. They’d been starved out and murdered and raped. It was why he’d been willing to give himself to Viggo, but now his father had been dragged into it. He didn’t want anything to do with what Viggo wanted him for, but it would be better if he just took him and left. He was just involving his father out of his own selfish cruelty and need to gloat.

_ Maybe I can get him to take me and have him and the Hunters leave _ , Hiccup thought. It wasn’t an ideal plan, but it was better than Berk being occupied. Yes, the Dragon Riders would be coming in about three days, but would they be able to fight the Dragon Hunters once they’d mastered Berk’s defenses? And what if they were to fail and face a similar fate? Hiccup felt an ache in his chest that wasn’t from his lungs. He couldn’t let that happen to his friends.

He decided not to tell Stoick about any of this though. Stoick’s arguing was what had landed them in this specific situation in the first place. It would be better if he didn’t know.

“You should try to get some rest,” Stoick said from down below. There was something unspoken after it.  _ “You’re going to need it.” _

Hiccup didn’t want to agree with him, but he was exhausted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept, and the events of the last few hours had drained every bit of energy he had. He didn’t feel safe sleeping though, not when Viggo could walk into his house at any minute.

Though, he did lay down. He tried his back at first, but he wasn’t much of a back sleeper, knew he would never fall asleep like that. The chains made laying on his side difficult, but then he managed to roll over onto his stomach. He just had to keep his arms up, and the chains made an x over each other above his head. After they stopped their rattling, there was silence, but there was one more thing Hiccup had to say. If he really was going to try to convince Viggo to take him and leave, he needed his dad to know why.

“Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

Tears slipped from Hiccup’s eyes. “I love you.”

  
  


Stoick was roused from his doze when the door to his house opened. He stood, balled his hands into fists. Viggo walked in in the most nonchalant manner, like he owned the place. He was free of his armor, wearing a black tunic with red dragon scales underneath. He must have used his foot to open the door, because he carried a tray in both hands. There was a satchel slung over his shoulder.

Stoick's stomach rumbled when he caught a whiff of what was on the tray. He hadn't eaten since what they'd assumed to be morning. It was hard to tell without the sun going down. It had probably been a whole twelve hours since then.

"Sorry, Stoick. Not for you. Don't want my new bedmate getting malnourished, you see."

"Get out of my damn house."

"I actually plan to be here for quite a bit," Viggo said. 

"Hiccup's sleeping." Stoick didn't know why he told him that. He doubted Viggo would care.

"Well, then I suppose I can sit and talk to you for a bit then." Viggo put the tray down on the table - it had been pushed up against the stairs. Then he pulled a chair towards himself and sat, taking off the satchel and putting it on the floor.

"What do you want?" Stoick demanded. He didn't know why Viggo hadn't just taken Hiccup and gone. Granted, he was glad he hadn't done that, but what was the point of imprisoning them in their own home? Was it just a sick show of dominance and power that he was getting off to?

Viggo shrugged. "I have yet to decide actually. Not sure if I should add your land to my empire or just kill all of you and leave."

"I suppose I die in both of those scenarios?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Viggo answered. 

"Then why am I still here?"

"Because I'm not done playing yet," he told him. "I like long games, you see. I especially like taking my time to savor victories before moving on to the next. Some people have victory after victory without actually taking the time to enjoy them, which leaves them feeling empty and constantly wanting for more. They'll wreck everything in their path just to feel some sort of bleak satisfaction instead of taking joy in the victories they already had. I prefer to actually taste it before I swallow."

Stoick narrowed his eyes. "You must really enjoy the taste of blood then."

"It's not as bitter as you'd think, if we're only speaking metaphorically," Viggo told him, laying one leg over the other and crossing his arms. "The suffering of others has a great sweetness to it."

"And is that an acquired taste or were you always a disgusting piece of dragon shit?"

"Oh, are you vying for some sort of good side in me?" Viggo asked. "And calling this current one bad? What  _ is _ good and bad really save for some notion created by parents to help their children understand the world? Morality is fluid based on perspective. For instance, here you are now thinking that my business of dragon hunting is bad when you used to kill dragons yourself. To you, killing dragons used to be this so-called good, but now it's what you would call bad. It changed. To think in black and whites is a hindrance of thought. There is no truth in it. Grays are the only thing that are fixed." He looked smug after he finished speaking. Stoick wanted to just tell him he talked too much instead of giving a good response, but he did have one.

"And do you feel justified in that?" Stoick questioned him. "Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep without being haunted by the crimes you've committed? There's nothing gray about being a murderer and a rapist, Viggo. There's no perspective-based morality to that. It's  _ bad _ . Hurting people and enjoying it is  _ bad _ ."

Viggo looked entirely uncaring. "I don't sleep much."

Stoick sat down, feeling drained by the sheer monstrosity of the person before him. There was no compassion in this man, no feeling for other people. It was something he'd seen before, but not to this degree.

"The gods will have no mercy on you when you die."

"I don't think of death much," Viggo said. "Well, my own, at least. What's the point? I'm not facing it yet."

Stoick met his eye. "You could be."

Viggo pouted mockingly at him. "Oh, that's cute, Stoick, but you're just a piece in this big game, a toy for me to play with and nothing more."

"Is that what everyone is to you? You think life is this great big gameboard and you're the one in control?"

"I don't think I'm in control of  _ everything _ ," Viggo answered, shaking his head. "I'm not  _ that _ vain. I do, however, know that everyone is something to be played with. Even if, like your son, they do happen to be other players."

Stoick was horrified by this idea of the world that Viggo held. No wonder he felt no guilt over the things he did. He thought he was put here to play with people in whatever way he decided. He thought he was justified in his game.

"If Hiccup's a player, then what does that make me?" 

"Don't flatter yourself. You may have helped to make him, but that doesn't grant you a higher status. You're a toy, Stoick." There was a malicious gleam in his eyes. "And I like to break my toys."

Stoick felt the threat heavy on his shoulders. That's why he was still alive. That's why Viggo was doing all this. He was nothing more than a toy to be played with, broken, and then discarded.

Viggo put the satchel back on and stood, then took the tray. So the conversation was over and he was going to go to Hiccup. Stoick didn't want him to.

"Aren't you afraid you'll run out some day?" he asked as Viggo began to ascend the stairs.

Viggo stopped, looked to him, lips pursed as he pondered the question. There was a rattling of chains from above, Hiccup shifting, probably waking up. Viggo looked towards the sound, and a sadistic smile spread his lips.

"I don't think I ever will run out."

  
  


Hiccup sat up as Viggo came into the loft, making sure that his blanket still covered his bottom half. His clothing was in a chest next to Toothless’ sleeping stone, but he couldn’t move off of the bed to get any of it.

"Sleep well, dear?" Viggo asked the question as if they were some sort of couple. He was carrying a tray of food, but Hiccup was suspicious of it. He gave no answer, and Viggo just observed his bed. "Hm, small, but I suppose we'll make do."

Hiccup snorted. "You live in a fucking tent."

"Yes, well, I travel a lot," Viggo responded. "Doesn't make much sense to erect a permanent home if I'm almost never going to be there. The quarters on my ship are rather nice, I assure you." He came over and put the tray in Hiccup's lap. "Now eat. I'm sure you're hungry."

"What'd you put in it?" Hiccup asked, squinting at the plate of boar's meat that lay before him. He picked up the fork and poked at it, moved it around, looking for anything unusual. He wouldn't put it past Viggo to drug him.

"I didn't touch it," Viggo told him, going to sit in the chair at his desk after turning it around to face him. "Ate some earlier though. Think there's just salt and pepper to add some flavor. It's not bad really."

"And what's that?" Hiccup pointed his fork at the tankard on the tray. The liquid in it didn't really have a color, and there was steam rising from it, so it was hot.

Viggo scoffed. "Never had tea before?"

"Um, I have. I just don't trust anything coming from you."

"The only thing I put in it is honey," Viggo told him. "Which should be good for your throat. I suppose it hurts."

Hiccup smoldered. "Yeah, and whose fault is that?"

"Don't act like I'm trying to shift the blame for that," Viggo said. "Just trying to help."

"I don't want your damn help." Hiccup put the fork down. He wished he could cross his arms, but the chains weren't long enough to let him. He wasn't allowed the mobility to push the tray away either. "Thanks, but I'm not eating."

"Oh, but you must," Viggo told him. "I don't plan on starving you. You won't make for a good partner that way."

Ice flooded Hiccup's veins. He knew that that was why Viggo was here, that he was undoubtedly going to take him again after he ate, but he hadn't wanted to think about that. He looked downstairs. His dad was going to hear everything. 

"Don't worry about your father. He's heard you in the throes of sexual pleasure already. What's done is done."

Hiccup's cheeks heated. "That wasn't pleasurable."

"No? Maybe not mentally, but your body certainly liked it." There was a knowing smile on Viggo's lips. "You'll get used to it."

"I don't want to."

"I thought you did," Viggo said. "Well, to save your people, that is. Going back on that? Being selfish?"

Hiccup pursed his lips. "I... Look, I said I'll give myself to you, okay?" He didn't have the will to look him in the eye, so he just kept his head turned to the side. "And yet you... you did that in front of my dad and then chained me up here." Now he managed to look at him. "What's your game? What are you doing?"

Viggo actually looked delighted. "This is a game I haven't gotten to play before," he said. "A whole tribe captured along with the chief and his heir? It's so splendid. I don't have to manipulate the pieces as much. They're under my control and I can do what I want with them."

"And when does the game end?" Hiccup asked.

"When I tire of it," Viggo responded.

"But I said I would give myself to you."

"And yet you fought me," Viggo countered. "Between you and me I think you need a little more breaking in."

Hiccup's stomach twisted. He hadn't eaten in a while, but he quite suddenly lost his appetite.

"If I do what you say, if I cooperate with you, will you let Berk go?"

Viggo rolled his eyes. "Are you even listening to me? I'm not yet done with this place."

"But I thought-"

"That if you went with me I'd leave?" Viggo chuckled. "No, no, not when the victory is this good."

Anger flared in Hiccup's blood, fire replacing the ice. He glared. "We had a deal."

"No, actually, we didn't. Your father wasn't having any attempt to make one once he realized that deal included you. We didn't come to any deal. I may have said I would leave Berk alone once I had you, but I never promised it. I’m allowed to go back on my words."

A growl rose in Hiccup's throat. It wasn't very much like him, but he just wanted to spring from the bed and attack Viggo. Though, there was nothing he could do. He thought of throwing his fork at him, but he realized how ridiculous that was.

"Snake," Hiccup spat.

"If you aim to hurt me with words, choose something I haven't heard before," Viggo said. "Or, perhaps you should stop talking and eat your food before it goes cold."

Hiccup looked down at the tray. He wasn't hungry anymore, but he would need his strength for whatever was coming. He picked up the fork.

Viggo leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms, looking content. "Good, Hiccup. Good."

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame Viggo for everything. Not me.

Hiccup raised his eyebrows at Viggo when he started undressing. He’d finished eating and knew it was time for  _ that _ but he hadn’t expected him to undress for some reason. Maybe because showing skin felt like vulnerability to him, and he hadn’t expected that from Viggo. At least he wouldn’t be fucking him in full armor. Nothing about the earlier situation had been comfortable, but that had made it worse. The insides of his thighs were chafed.

Hiccup’s heart pounded, and he clutched his blanket tight. He wanted to run, but even if he was unchained he wouldn’t have been able to. He didn’t know where his prosthetic was. He had a spare in his room, but he couldn’t reach anything.

He felt torn. What was the point of fighting when it was undoubtedly going to happen? But why should he have to cooperate if cooperation wasn’t going to gain him anything? It wasn’t going to save his people.

Viggo left his pants on for the moment. He took the now-empty tray from Hiccup’s lap and moved it to his desk. Then he was sitting on the end of the bed, putting his satchel on it. Hiccup was just watching him with dread, but then his gaze went down below.

“Can we… can we do this where my dad won’t hear?” he asked quietly. If there was no getting out of it, he didn’t want him hearing again. He couldn’t imagine what his dad was feeling, just waiting to hear him be raped again.

“But this is fun,” Viggo protested. He took a jar out of the satchel and placed it down. Hiccup watched him take out other items, anxiety burning in his stomach. There were metal rods of varying widths, the largest about the width of Viggo’s forefinger, cords of leather, and metal clamps. Next he took out what looked to be a ball gag, but then he glanced at Hiccup and put it back. “I like it when you talk,” he commented.

“Wh-what are those for?” Hiccup asked fearfully, pointing to the items on the bed.

“Oh, you’ll see. I’m going to go nice and slow with you this time. Have my fun.” Viggo set the satchel down on the side of the bed, then kicked off his boots. That left him in just his pants. Hiccup swallowed, tried not to look between his legs. The bulge was hard  _ not _ to see though. He didn’t even think Viggo was erect right now. He was just… big.

Viggo pushed the items aside for the moment and moved towards Hiccup. He took him by the hair and pulled his head back, his lips finding his neck. Hiccup didn’t know what to do but put his hands into useless fists. Maybe he shouldn’t fight or protest. If he said anything his dad would hear, and certainly that would hurt him more than him taking it without protest. He looked down below again, though he couldn’t see his dad.

Viggo pulled the blanket aside to reveal his nudity, one big hand going to his thigh. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to his throat, his thumb stroking the inside of his thigh.

“This is… different than earlier,” Hiccup commented breathlessly.

“Brutality won’t get me what I want,” Viggo told him. “But it was necessary.” He kissed just beneath his jaw on the left side, and Hiccup melted into him, mouth falling open in a soft moan. He hadn’t realized he had a sensitive spot there. He wasn’t happy about Viggo finding it, but there was nothing that could be done about it.Though, he didn’t like that Viggo had been the one to find it. He was discovering things about him that he shouldn’t have.

Hiccup was so confused he wanted to cry. Viggo wasn’t hurting him now, was acting like he was going to make love to him of all things, but Hiccup didn’t  _ want  _ it. It was making no sense to him though, and especially not to his body. The situation would have made more sense if he were being treated roughly and hurt.

“I-I don’t like this.”

Viggo nibbled lightly on one of his earlobes, and that really did feel good. His thumb kept stroking the sensitive inside of his thigh, so close to his cock, which now wanted touching. Earlier, it had been difficult for Viggo to arouse him, but with the gentle actions it was happening much easier.

“Really? I think some part of you does.” His voice was a rumble that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Frustrated tears welled in his eyes. Viggo was trying to seduce him, trying to make him give in to him. And dammit he was good at it.

The protests were bubbling up, clawing at his throat, but he thought of his dad, of how it would pain him to hear them. He was going to hear this anyway - Hiccup didn’t trust himself to keep quiet - but it would probably be better for him without the very useless, verbal fighting-back.

Hiccup tried pushing Viggo away, but all it created was a tugging on his chains and a metallic rattle. He growled in frustration, but didn’t tell him to get off.

Viggo’s laugh was deep and rich, right in his ear. “You can’t escape me, Hiccup.” His hand went farther up his thigh, so terribly close to his stirring member. He tilted his head, ran his lips over his throat. Hiccup’s heart pounded at his ribs in a useless attempt to escape and be free of this. 

Hiccup shut his eyes when Viggo touched his cock, a small moan slipping past his lips. 

“I-is there any way I can get you to stop?” Hiccup asked quietly. Why did his hand feel so good? This had all made more sense when it had hurt him. He knew he was mostly useless to Viggo though. He didn’t have any information to give him, and Viggo already had Toothless and the Dragon Eye. What did he have to bargain with? “Information I can give?”

“There have been multiple things I wanted out of this war,” Viggo told him. “The Dragon Eye, the Night Fury, and you. I was intrigued by you as soon as Ryker told me of you, and when I first laid eyes on you I wasn’t expecting such a beauty.”

Hiccup panted, groaned. He was stroking his cock ever so slowly, and he was so hard now, aching. It didn’t make sense.

“I’m not…”

“That’s how you see yourself? Absent of physical appeal?”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

Viggo acted as if he hadn’t heard him. “But look at your cock.” Both his hands moved to it, and Hiccup could feel his eyes there too. He hated it, hated that an enemy knew him so intimately. He pulled his foreskin down to reveal the head, stroked fingers over it, squeezed gently. Hiccup moaned, shifted his legs, pulled on his chains, unsure of what to do with himself. He hadn’t felt this from someone else before. “So lovely.” He pressed his thumb against his frenulum, rubbed firmly up and down. The friction made him buck. “You’d do well for breeding. Ever fucked a woman before?”

“No.” Hiccup didn’t know why he answered honestly, why this even mattered to Viggo.

“A man then?”

Hiccup shook his head. Viggo’s hands had left his cock, and he watched him reach for the jar. He uncorked it, and there was the faint scent of some sort of spice. It was pleasant. It was probably oil. Hiccup used some when he jerked off to alleviate the friction. 

Viggo looked a little shocked. “You’ve never fucked anyone? Come now, you’re in your early twenties. You must be lying.”

Hiccup swallowed. “I’m nineteen.”

“Goodness, I thought you were a little older than that. You  _ seem  _ older than that. Must be your intellect.” Viggo tipped the jar over his cock, and it was definitely oil. It created the sweetest sensation as it landed on his cock and trickled down. 

“ _ Oh… _ ” 

Viggo put the jar down, pumped him, completely coating him in the oil. Hiccup’s mouth fell open in heavy breaths and tiny moans. He didn’t want to show his pleasure, but it was like he couldn’t help it.

“I still admit myself surprised. Nineteen isn’t too young for sex. My first time was when I was fifteen.”

“Stop talking.” Hiccup whined after his words. This really did feel good. It made absolutely no sense to him. He thought of rape as something painful, something brutal and harsh, something that hurt, but Viggo wasn’t doing that. He was giving him pleasure instead.

There was a tingling in his cock, a sort of burning. It was good, and it flushed his system through with desire. That frightened him.

“What’s in that oil?” he gasped out.

“It’s a mixture of aphrodisiacs,” Viggo explained. His hand went down, began fondling his balls, and Hiccup tipped his head back, moans spilling from his lips. He couldn’t remember ever being this hard or lusting so badly. Viggo came close, ran his tongue over his lower lip, briefly dipped it into his mouth, and Hiccup didn’t have the will to bite him. Who knew what consequences would befall him if he did? He had his hand on the most sensitive part of his body. “How does it feel?”

Hiccup was trying not to lose his mind to the growing lust. It was so new to him.

“Hate it,” he got out.

Viggo chuckled. “No you don’t.” His hand left his balls, but Hiccup still felt pleasure in the absence, his cock throbbing, his skin tingling. Viggo’s hands came back, fingertips wet with the oil, rubbing over his hardened nipples. He cried out in shock and arched into him without thinking. 

“ _ Ah, oh… fuck _ .”

Hiccup was compliant when Viggo pushed him down onto his back and settled himself on top of him. His weight, his heat, his breath - all oppressive and trapping him. Though, he let Viggo kiss him and delve his tongue into his open mouth. He moaned, jutted his hips upwards, and he could feel Viggo hard through his pants. It frightened him, but that terrible feeling from the oil seemed to be controlling everything. His body  _ wanted _ and he was a victim to it.

“That’s it, Hiccup,” Viggo breathed. His hands roamed down over him, over the bandages on his stomach, over his pelvis, to his thighs. “Let your body have its desires.”

Hiccup turned his head away, felt Viggo’s mouth on his jaw. His chest heaved.

“Don’t want…”

“Oh, but you’re  _ aching  _ for it.”

Tears welled up, trickled down his cheeks, over his nose. He didn’t understand what was happening anymore.

Oh gods, one hand was between his legs, at his rim. It hurt, it hurt, but then oil was rubbed there, so soothing. He sighed and moaned, pushed his hips into it. The fingers that entered him were careful, so different from earlier. The way they slowly thrusted in and out was almost soothing. It was helping with the awful desire he felt. It was like the relief of scratching a terrible itch. He sighed and moaned heavily. There was sucking on his neck, a hand holding his hip. 

“The tea was an aphrodisiac as well,” Viggo murmured. 

“Wh-why?”

“To make you good for me.” His tongue landed on a nipple and Hiccup cursed loudly. “To make you clay in my hands.”

Viggo crooked his fingers inside him, and Hiccup was flooded with intense pleasure. His cock twitched, let out droplets of precum.

“Oh, oh gods…”

“You like that?”

Hiccup didn’t know what to say. He was utterly overwhelmed.

“How do you think your father’s doing?” Viggo asked, and the question jarred Hiccup back to reality. He felt like he’d been punched and it left him reeling. No matter how good it felt, he was being raped by his enemy while chained to his bed in his own home, and his father was imprisoned right downstairs within earshot of it all. Well, a good deal of it. He doubted he could hear the things Viggo was saying, which he was grateful for. “Do you think he’s hard? Wanting to touch himself because you sound so good?”

“H-he wouldn’t.”

“Not like he can help it.” He kissed at his chest. He nuzzled his nose at a nipple before taking it between his teeth. Hiccup’s body loved it. “That’s what’s so fun. His body knows what sex sounds like. It doesn’t matter who it’s coming from. And besides, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone as splendid as you before. I can’t wait to make you scream.”

“ _ Aghhhn _ \- why would I scream?”

“Do you want to cum?”

“Yes.” The word slipped out before he could stop himself.

“Well, I’m not going to let you. Not any time soon. I’m going to tie up your cock nice and tight. And you know those rods?” Viggo lifted himself up, and the hand on his hip went to his cock, fingers smoothing over his slit. “They’re going to go in here.”

Horror sucked in Hiccup’s stomach, and he looked to Viggo wide eyed.

“Oh, I suppose I’ll demonstrate.” His hands were gone, reaching for the items he’d placed on the bed. Hiccup watched in a mix of fascination and terror as he wrapped the leather cords around his cock and balls and tied them tight. Then he was reaching for one of the rods, a slimmer one, but Hiccup was still scared. He definitely didn’t want anything  _ in his cock _ . It was horrible, unnatural, sickening.

His breaths came in frightened puffs as Viggo took his cock in one hand. He rubbed the rod horizontally over his slit, teasing him with it, and that actually felt good. 

Hiccup gasped when it went into him. It struck sensation all down his length, his core, down his legs and into his toes. It was a tad wider than his slit though, so it hurt, but there actually was something good with it. He couldn’t watch anymore though, too disturbed by the sight of something actually in his cock. He tilted his head back, stared at the ceiling, moaning and sighing and gasping. 

It went deeper, so deep. He didn’t know when it would stop. And then-

“ _ Shit _ .” The rod had touched something, and pleasure had burst so hard that he shuddered and his eyes nearly rolled back. Was it that strange thing Viggo had touched earlier, that thing he’d felt unwanted pleasure from when he’d fucked him? It seemed to be in the same place, just being stimulated from a different angle.

“Mm, a good start.” Viggo’s voice was heavy with satisfaction. “I’m going to have so much fun with you before I fuck you. I wonder if you’ll cry when I fist you.”

Hiccup didn’t much like the sound of that, but his lust leapt at it. Maybe it would help curb this need.

“F-fist me?”

“Put my whole hand in you, my dear.” The rod was moving out, and Hiccup closed his eyes and groaned. Back in. Out. Viggo was fucking his cock with it and it hurt and felt good all at once. He couldn’t catch a deep breath. “Press on your prostate till you’re shaking and desperate to cum.” So that’s what that thing inside him was called. “But your cock will be stuffed full. You won’t be able to.”

Hiccup didn’t know how to respond to any of this. He wasn’t happy to hear about what was going to be done to him, and he was quite frankly sickened by it, but the desire in him was hot and raging, tumultuous, like a sea of flame. It wouldn’t be tamed till it was given what it needed. But he was going to have to wait for relief.

_ Endure.  _ His dad’s word came back to him. Certainly he could do that. He could weather through whatever twisted things Viggo wanted to do to him, through the pleasure and the pain and everything he didn’t want.

He met Viggo’s eyes, tried his best to harden his gaze even under the influence of the aphrodisiacs. 

Viggo smiled. “Do you sleep much?”

  
  


Stoick wanted to rip his ears off. He’d been waiting with dread coiled tight in his stomach for the sounds to start, for the crying, the protests, the yelling, but that’s not what it was. It seemed Viggo was  _ trying  _ to pleasure Hiccup. When the gasps and moans had started he’d listened for a little bit in utter confusion before figuring it out. He was playing with him, trying to turn his body against him to clash with his mind. In a way, it was worse than what had been done earlier. Once he’d realized that, he’d blocked his ears, but his arms eventually got tired and he had to drop his hands; the chains were heavy on his anguished wrists. The sounds flooded back in and he just tightened his jaw. His son was being raped but from here it just sounded like sex, and good sex at that.

Viggo wasn’t just trying to torment Hiccup with this. He was toying with Stoick as well, and Stoick hated him with a burning passion, but not as much as he hated himself at the moment.

He was hard. His body apparently didn’t care that it was his son’s voice that the moans and cries and curses were in. All it knew was that whatever was happening sounded pleasurable.

Stoick knew really he should be more mad at Viggo than himself for that, that the reaction wasn’t his fault, but he felt like it shouldn’t be happening. This was Hiccup and this was all being done against his will. There was nothing  _ good  _ about this. 

As much as he repeated this to himself it didn’t matter, didn’t sink in. His body didn’t care. All it cared about was the loud, sensual moaning coming from above him.

And it made him feel like a monster.

Stoick pulled his knees up and put his head in his hands. He tried to keep his sobs as quiet as possible, though he doubted Hiccup or Viggo could hear him. He wanted to yell for Viggo to stop but that would only give him something to laugh about.

Hiccup wasn’t the only one enduring. He had to as well.

  
  


Hiccup was sweating by the time Viggo got the final rod in him. It hurt straight down to his core and he yelled. He tugged on his chains, twisted his head, groaning. He wasn’t sure how it could possibly fit, how he’d been stretched so much. His limbs shook when it touched his prostate, and the pleasure it gave him chased away the pain, made him undulate and moan.

“Mm, look at that.” Viggo sounded extremely satisfied. He got pleasure out of this somehow. He ran fingers down the length of him. “You can see it from the outside.” He pulled the rod up, almost all the way out, before pushing it back in, making Hiccup whimper. Just like he had with all the other rods, he continued doing that. Hiccup’s toes twitched.

He tossed his head back, stared despairingly at the ceiling. “Fuck.” There was still that awful heat, that need. He wanted to orgasm so badly, and oddly enough he could feel himself being worked towards it from this, but Viggo wasn’t going to let him.

Viggo leaned over him, brushed his sweat-damp hair from his forehead. “You’re doing well, Hiccup. Most people can’t take this one.”

“I-it hurts,” Hiccup told him. 

He left the rod buried in him, slowly pumped his cock. His other hand played with a nipple. 

“I’m well aware. That’s the fun of it.”

Hiccup’s lips trembled as he kept in the word “stop.” He wanted him to, badly, but he knew he wouldn’t.

“Actually, speaking of hurting…” Viggo reached for one of the clamps, and Hiccup opened his mouth to ask where it was going, but a pained yelp left him as it squeezed tight at his left nipple. The right was soon captured in the same way and he jerked and shouted.

His protests, which he’d been trying for so long to keep in, came out unbidden.

“Stop! That hurts!”

Viggo chuckled, pulled at each of the clamps, and Hiccup arched and cried out, tightly shut his eyes. His hands were in trembling fists. The pain arced all the way through him and tugged at his cock. It was awful but it also somehow increased his desire to cum. 

It stopped and he went limp, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t pay attention to what Viggo was doing until he was sliding his hand beneath what remained of his left leg and taking him by the knee. He forced his leg up, and then his other hand was at his rim, three fingers pushing inside and making him gasp. Luckily they were coated in oil.

“Ah,  _ ah _ , please stop.” He didn’t want Viggo’s whole hand going in him. The notion didn’t sit right with him at all. 

“Relax, my dear. You’ll be fine.”

Viggo rubbed at his prostate and it felt so good that Hiccup sobbed. There was an awful pressure with it though, seeing as how the rod was pressing at it from the other side. He just needed to explode, but the cords were so tight around his balls and the base of his cock.

“ _ Ughnnn… _ Oh,  _ ohh… _ ” He wished he could stop the noises that were coming from him, form something intelligible, but fuck it felt so good and left him so desperate all at once. A sound came with each exhale. He rolled his head, pulled on his chains.

“That’s it, Hiccup.” A fourth finger pushed at him, made its way inside, and the stretch hurt terribly, but then dear gods the excellent friction and that sweet spot inside of him. Everything in him heaved with each breath. The rapid, harsh movement of his chest made his lungs hurt, and it made his nipples hurt as well. 

Viggo’s hand left for a moment, and for some reason his muscles were clenching hungrily after, as if wanting him back. Oil was poured all along his cock and balls, over his perineum and then inside him. It made him absolutely sear with need and he sobbed in desperation.

“Please, please.” He didn’t know what he was saying please for, for it to stop or for it to continue.

It continued. Viggo took his cock in his hand, still very much full of the large rod, and pumped him. It felt so strange with something inside him, but his touch was oh so good, and Hiccup curved into it, whining.

He did that for a time, then played with his balls, pushed on his perineum, and then his hand was back down, knuckles pushing at his rim. Hiccup yelled when he made it inside. 

“Too much! Too much!”

Oh gods he was in to his wrist.

“What is, dear?”

“ _ Agh-ha _ , th-the stretch.”

Viggo settled Hiccup’s leg down. It seemed he’d just needed to hold it like that for the insertion. Then he was pressing on his hip to keep him from moving.

“It’s alright. You’ll get used to it.” He twisted his hand, knuckles rubbing against his prostate, and Hiccup yelped, attempted to move his hips but was stuck. 

“D-don’t like it.” He was too full. Everything that was being done to him was crashing through all his physical limits. Viggo had plowed right through all of them. He hadn’t ever thought of the possibility of feeling so full in both his cock and his ass at once, and it left him feeling disturbed, but also like he needed to explode. The pressure in his pelvis was enormous, and the sheer amount of pleasure and sweet burning was just absolutely unfair.

Viggo laughed lowly, slowly pushing his fist in and out of him and twisting. “I knew you could take this despite how thin you are.” He withdrew his hand and there was that longing clenching and puckering again. “Your ass is acting like it wants me in there.” His hand went right back inside. Hiccup shouted, choked on a sob. He didn’t understand anything his body was doing. How could it turn on him like this? “I bet you could take two cocks at once.”

“No, no, no.”

“Mm, yes. Perhaps I should let my men have you. I’m sure they’d enjoy ravishing the heir of Berk.”

“Sh-shut up.”

“But you’re really not much of an heir anymore,” Viggo said. “Not after what I’ve done to you.”

Hiccup didn’t want to think about that. He just had to work on getting through the now, and thinking made that difficult. Viggo kept moving his hand, and the friction was so terribly good. He pressed and rubbed at his prostate, and it wasn’t long before his legs started shaking rather uncontrollably. He wanted so badly to cum but he didn’t want to admit it. It took him a while to realize that he was wailing.

He forced his jaw shut, keening through his teeth. He wasn’t able to keep his mouth closed for long though. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of pleasure. He needed release.

“Please!  _ Please! _ ”

“Please what?”

Hiccup hated himself, but: “N-need to cum!”

Viggo’s laugh was low. “Do you now?”

“ _ Aghn _ , yes, yes!”

“How about you take my cock first?”

Hiccup was driven to tears and beyond the point of caring. Never in his life had he been so filled with lust. He felt like if it wasn’t fulfilled he’d burn from the inside out. Everything between his legs was on fire. 

“Yeah,” he gasped out, shuddering. “Please! Just please!”

Viggo pulled his hand from him, rubbed both his hands over his quivering body in what felt like an attempt at soothing him. He took off the clamps, and that was painful and made him cry out, but then he was back at caressing. His skin was tingling. 

At some point he paused to remove his pants, and Hiccup got a good look at him, morbidly curious. He’d felt his cock earlier, but he’d tried his best not to focus on it. But now he wanted to know what he had to deal with. 

He was thick and long all at once, scarily large. The word monstrosity came to mind. Viggo stroked it while flashing Hiccup a smile. It made fear clog up his throat. But  _ gods  _ he wanted to orgasm. He  _ needed  _ to.

Viggo went back between his legs, leaned over him. His hands went over his body, played with his tender nipples. Hiccup’s loud moans were swallowed by his mouth, and Hiccup just took it. Viggo’s erection was prodding at him, hard and insistent. His large hands slid down and under him, took his ass and lifted, and he evenly pushed into him. Hiccup made a sound into his mouth, tightened his fists, yanked on his chains. It didn’t hurt like it had the first time, probably due to the stretching and the oil. It felt like he was stoking a fire, and Hiccup groaned. He entered him slowly, rubbing across his prostate, pushing deeper and deeper, much deeper than his hand had gone. Then he was in all the way, balls flush against him. Viggo moaned loudly into Hiccup’s mouth, pressed one hand beside his head. His hips started moving, strong and confident.

Viggo pulled away from his mouth, panting. “You feel so good, Hiccup.  _ Oh… _ ”

Hiccup didn’t want to look at him. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He just wanted an orgasm as quickly as possible, but wanted nothing to do with who was going to give it to him. 

“Yes, Hiccup, yes.”

Viggo’s mouth was at his neck, voraciously sucking marks into his skin. He held him firmly, and his rhythm increased in speed and intensity. Hiccup could do nothing but take it.

  
  


Stoick wanted to pull at his chains and try to break free, but his body refused to let him do that. The chains had cut terribly deep with his pulling, and his wrists were simply a throbbing mess of pain. He was hungry and exhausted, worried and heartbroken. He let his mind wander to individual people he knew as he listened to what was being done to Hiccup. He hadn’t seen Gobber since about halfway through the attack, and he prayed that he was still alive. Spitelout, Bucket, and Mulch had all gone down on their dragons, bravely fighting back. Sven and Gustav had been captured. Gothi was nowhere to be found. The names went on and on. Some dead. Some unaccounted for. Some raped in the Mead Hall along with Hiccup. It was harrowing and heavy and just too much.

The sounds his son was making got louder, drawing him from his somber reverie into horrid reality. He had a horrible, nauseating need to know what Viggo was doing to make him cry out and wail like that. 

Bile burned his throat for the millionth time as he heard Hiccup beg, but not for him to stop, for him to… get him off. What could he have done to drive him to such desperation? He of course didn’t lay any blame on Hiccup. How could any of this be his fault?

Stoick felt rage when another voice joined Hiccup's. It was clear that now Viggo was fucking him, using his body for his own physical pleasure. Stoick had an inkling that Viggo wasn't loud at all during sex. The man had looked at him and smiled earlier. He was very clearly making so much noise on purpose, smearing his actions in his face.

He didn't want to hear his enemy receiving pleasure from his son.

And he didn't want to hear his son receiving unwanted pleasure from his enemy.

He went to block his ears again, but his wrists screamed at him. Pain twinged into his fingers, up his arms. Curious, he moved one cuff aside as carefully as possible, trying to get a look at the wound. He couldn't see much: just blood and flesh that had been torn into. He assumed it was rather deep though. It certainly felt that way.

Stoick looked around for the millionth time as the noises continued, racking his brain for some sort of plan. The furniture was out of reach. He'd tried reaching it earlier. He had no weapons on him, and he hadn't had any hidden weapons. Why carry a weapon hidden on himself in his own home when he was the chief?

He looked down at the floorboards, scrutinizing the nails, seeing if there were any out of place that maybe he could pull out. There was one a little nearby. He inched over to it, reached out a hand, chain rattling, feeling like a million pounds held him restrained. He tried getting his large fingers around the nail, prying at it. The pads of his fingers frustratingly scraped wood.

Hiccup was crying out, moaning, and there was sickening praise from Viggo, then more moans from him as well.

It went on. Stoick tried grabbing the metal with his nails, but they were short and blunt. His hands were too big. That wasn't going to stop him though. He did his best to get a grip on it, twisted, pulled, struggled. Doing so hurt, and after some time of doing this, there was blood, but he kept at it, tried with all his might to pull the nail free. He had the strength, but it would have been so much easier if he had smaller hands.

Painstakingly, he yanked the nail, now bloodied, out of the floorboard. He held it up, looked at it.

Useless. This was all useless. What was he going to do? Toss it at Viggo? It wasn't like he could situate it anywhere for it to conveniently impale the man's foot. And it was too big to fit in the locks for his restraints.

Stoick was absolutely and utterly useless. The feeling wasn't a familiar one, but it wasn't a new one either. He hated it with a passion. He felt just as useless as he had earlier when Hiccup had silently asked for him to help him. There had been nothing he could do, and there was still nothing he could do.

He tossed the nail away.

The sounds from above continued.

  
  


Viggo had paused in his movements for the time being, lifted himself up, and his hands went to Hiccup’s cock. Hiccup was heaving, desperate, face tear-stained. It felt like an orgasm had been pent up for ages now. Viggo had quite the stamina, and he’d lost track of time as he’d fucked him.

The cords came off first and Viggo stroked him in their absence and gently squeezed his balls. He was still about halfway inside him. Everything was so good that it  _ hurt. _

“Viggo, please, please, please,” he whimpered. The rod needed to be gone too.

Viggo laughed. “You poor thing. It’s fun seeing you so ruined.” Then he was pulling the rod out, and it was painful, but his release came right behind it. Cum spurted from him as soon as it was gone, and Hiccup couldn’t keep in a scream.  _ Finally.  _ Everything tightened, shook, and he arched into Viggo as pleasure overtook him. His muscles were contracting around Viggo’s cock and squeezing pleasure into him, and the man’s hand was on him, stroking him through it. Sensation pulsed and wound through him and his head went back, his eyes rolling, and he continued to scream. He’d needed this. He’d needed this so badly and now here it was.  _ Oh _ it was fantastic. He’d never felt anything so incredible in his life.

Hiccup nearly blacked out from the intensity of it. He came down from the peak, moaning, panting, muscles beginning to relax. He was encased in a pleasant tingling.

“What a precious scream.” Viggo’s voice was like gravel. It vibrated pleasantly in his ears. A hand ran over Hiccup’s body, and every inch of skin was sensitive to the touch. He moaned from his chest.

Viggo took Hiccup’s legs, slid all the way back into him with a groan, and Hiccup yelped at the sensation. Even his insides felt sensitized from the orgasm.

“F-fuck too much.” He rolled his head, panting, eyes closing. He was completely spent, just wanted to lose consciousness now. 

“Stay with me a little longer, Hiccup.” 

Hiccup groaned and tried closing his legs, but Viggo was firmly stuck between them and holding them open. His thrusting resumed, plunging deep into him, sparking pleasure so good it was agonizing all through him, leaving a scalding pool in his stomach. He was shaking.

Viggo bent over him, mouth again finding his skin, and Hiccup shouted when his tongue pressed flat against a nipple. He didn’t even know if that hurt or felt good. It was simply overwhelming. He was thrusting hard.

“Stop!”

“I’m almost there, Hiccup.”

“ _ Ungh-huh _ ,  _ please _ …”

“Just a little more. You can take it.”

Hiccup didn’t really think he could, but he had no choice. He did his best to pull himself away from his body, to try to not feel what was happening. It worked. He didn’t realize Viggo had orgasmed until he was no longer in him. He was talking, but he couldn’t make out words through the tired fog in his mind.

He whined when he felt a towel on his cock and between his legs, but relaxed again when it was gone. That felt a little better, though he was still sticky. He heard something about a bath. 

Exhausted to his bones, Hiccup drifted off to the sound of footsteps descending the stairs.

  
  


Viggo came down the stairs looking prim as ever, like he hadn’t been tormenting someone for the past hours. Well, Stoick thought it had been hours. Maybe two or three. It was hard to tell the time. 

“You done?” Stoick asked harshly.

“For now.” Viggo turned to him, hands clasped together. “Did you get any enjoyment out of that?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You’re disgusting.” There was no way in Hel Stoick was ever going to tell anyone he’d gotten an erection from that. Luckily, it had now died.

Viggo smiled with his teeth. “Thank you. I’ll add your name to the ever growing list of people who have told me so.”

“What’d you give him?” Stoick demanded.

“What makes you think I gave him anything?”

Stoick narrowed his eyes. He didn’t want to say.

“Alright, alright, yes, I did give him something,” Viggo admitted. “Though it wasn’t a drug. Just a lovely mixture of strong aphrodisiacs. He’ll be perfect if I keep him on them. He’s already got the right body. Hair is good for grabbing at.”

“Shut up.” Stoick wanted to shout it, but he was sure Hiccup was sleeping, and he needed it. He didn’t want to wake him. 

Viggo stepped closer, but still out of range of him. It was teasing, taunting. “A pretty cock too. Especially stuffed full.”

“Excuse me?”

In answer, Viggo opened his satchel and withdrew a metal rod. It was rather thick. Horror tore at Stoick’s gut.

“Still warm.” Viggo brought it to his mouth, ran his tongue along it while staring Stoick dead in the eye. “Mm, tastes like his seed.”

Stoick was on all fours, vision filling with tears. He wanted to be sick and nausea made saliva run in his mouth, but his stomach was empty, so all he could do was dry heave and drool. It wasn’t long before he was up on his feet though, tugging at his chains, blind to the pain it caused. He forgot about not waking Hiccup.

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

The rafters creaked from the force of his pulling. Dust rained down.

Viggo laughed, came as close as he could while still being out of his reach. Stoick was fuming. He’d never wanted to kill anyone so badly before.

“Careful, Stoick. Wouldn’t want to pull down the roof on your precious son, would you?” He inspected the chains, reached up a hand and gave them a tug. Fire burned in his wrist from it. “Perhaps I should have you moved to a cage. Right next to your Rumblehorn. Oh, and then Hiccup and I can use  _ your  _ bed.”

Stoick didn’t care about dignity. He could do nothing but this. He spit in Viggo’s face.

Viggo shut his eyes, looking offended and taken aback. He wiped the spit out of his eyes, made a sound of disgust. Then he was cleaning his hand off on his pants. He huffed. “At least words and spit are all you have.” 

“For now.”

Viggo rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re going to kill me. I’ve spent over half my life hearing that, and yet I am still here.” He suddenly shot a hand forward, took ahold of one of Stoick’s, and his thumb went under the metal cuff, dug into his wound. Stoick yelled, yanked that hand back, and with the other he tried to throw a blow. All it did was pull uselessly on ruined flesh. Stoick roared in pain, rage, desperation. He crashed to his knees, a hopeless sob leaving him, clutching his hands to his chest. He looked down. He couldn’t make himself meet Viggo’s eyes like this, on his knees and so weak.

But then he had to. There was a hand in his beard, tugging, lifting his head up, and he had to blink to see Viggo clearly.

“You know, your name really doesn’t match you,” he commented. He searched his gaze for a time, and Stoick was unsure of what he was looking for. There was a strange absence of life in Viggo’s, a lack of humanity. It was just cold. He let go, stepped away. “Not to worry, Stoick. When I’m done with this game you’ll be happy for my blade in your throat.” 

Stoick said nothing, merely dropped his head. Viggo’s footsteps receded. Sunlight was briefly let in as he opened the door, and then it shut behind him and again left him in the semi-darkness, where he cried alone on the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are foods in here that the Vikings did not have because fuck historical accuracy.

Hiccup didn’t know what exactly to feel upon waking up. He’d slept like the dead, not at all moving from the spot he’d fallen asleep in on his back. However, that didn’t change the fact that he still felt exhausted, that his eyes were heavy. There was the weight of fatigue on his body. His lungs ached and his throat itched, and when he coughed to relieve it, the wound across his stomach burned. It seemed Viggo had actually put the blanket back on him though.

He moaned in distress, took note of the other discomforts on his body. It was uncomfortable to acknowledge, but the inside of his cock hurt and his ass hurt as well. There had been a lot of oil, so he didn’t think there were any tears, but Viggo hadn’t exactly gone easy on him. 

Hiccup found himself wishing that, had this been going to happen anyway, it would have happened at a different time, when he was at full health. His weakness was being taken advantage of and his health again declining. There was no way this was sustainable. That either meant that Viggo was quite literally going to fuck him to death, or he was going to give him a break. Probably the latter. If he’d wanted him dead he would have killed him already.

“Dad?” His voice came out hoarsely and he had to clear his throat and try again. He was afraid to talk to his father after what had happened last night, but there was no avoiding it.

No response, and it frightened him. While Viggo didn’t want Hiccup dead, he most likely wanted his father dead. What if he was…? His lip trembled and his throat ached.

“ _ Dad?! _ ” It came out shrilly, terrified.

A familiar grumble, a shifting of chains. 

“Hiccup? Are you okay?” His voice was concerned, but tired. So he’d been sleeping. Hiccup suddenly felt guilty for interrupting that. 

“Sorry, you didn’t answer and I thought…” He trailed off. There was no reason to voice what he’d thought. 

“Are you okay, Hiccup?”

Hiccup swallowed past the lump in his throat. His lower lip trembled.

“I-I guess.”

“No, tell me. Where are you hurting?”

A small sob made it past his lips, the movement tugging on his wound. How had he not noticed it last night? Had it been what Viggo had given him?

Hiccup didn’t know what to say, and instead of words more sobs came out, louder. Gods, he really did hurt, and the places he hurt in just drove home what was being done to him, the level of violation he’d faced. Each sob felt like a knife to his lungs.

“Hiccup, breathe. Please breathe.” His dad’s voice was as soft as he could make it while still being desperate and loud enough to be heard. “You can’t do this.”

Hiccup knew he was right. He took a deep breath, and the instant his lungs filled he was consumed by a fit of coughing. He came back from it aching and feeling more exhausted than before, but now he was breathing more evenly.

After a while: “Where did he hurt you?”

Shame tore Hiccup’s stomach open and began to wrench out his guts. “I don’t want… to tell you.”

“Please, I need to know.”

Hiccup shook his head though his father wouldn’t be able to see. “Don’t.”

Another silence. He closed his eyes, wanting to return to sleep. At least when he was asleep he didn’t have to deal with this.

“It’s not your fault,” Stoick said after a long while. “The things he’s making your body do - it’s not your fault.”

“I…” Hiccup wanted to say he knew, but he didn’t understand. Not at all. The night before felt like a haze of raging lust, and now it was like a strange dream. That  _ couldn’t  _ have been him. “I don’t get it.”

“We never did have much of a  _ talk _ , did we?”

“No, I mean, I understand that, I think.” Hiccup felt his cheeks heating. He remembered when his father had sat him down for that. He’d been twelve, and he’d ended up running out to go search for trolls instead. Talk of that had just been too embarrassing and now here he was with his dad having seen everything, heard everything. All boundaries had been broken and he just wanted to re-erect them.  

A deep sigh. “I… know this situation is far from normal, but we might as well talk to each other. If there’s some way I can help you… understand or get through it.”

Hiccup swallowed hard, took a deep breath through his nose. His dad was right. What was the point in acting like this was normal when it was the farthest thing from it? They had to adapt to the situation.

“I’m mad,” Hiccup said quite simply. “I’m mad that he just… knows where to touch me to make my body react. I-It’s not fair. And there are places I didn’t even know about. It’s… He shouldn’t have been the one…” Tears stung in his eyes again. 

“You hadn’t had sex before, had you?”

At this point, Hiccup didn’t feel embarrassed admitting it to him. 

“No.”

“Have you ever wanted to? With your friends maybe?”

Hiccup was somehow beginning to feel a little more comfortable with this. Just a… grown-up talk with his dad. Yes, this was completely normal and fine. It actually made his chest feel a little lighter. 

“I mean, they’ve asked me before,” Hiccup answered. “They always backed off when I showed I wasn’t interested.” He laughed a little. “Though Ruff and Tuff were always a little more persistent. And  _ gods _ , Snotlout doesn’t have a clue how to flirt!” That actually pulled laughter from the both of them. “But, um, there’s Astrid, you know? I’ve liked her for so long, and we’ve dated before, and I want to again, and…” It was Hiccup’s turn to sigh. “But it doesn’t matter now. I’m… ruined for her. For anyone.” He’d been publicly raped by an opposing chief. How could he retain any shred of dignity or status after that? He wasn’t fit for anyone now. It would have been fine for him to have consensual sex before marriage, but the fact that he’d been raped sullied his virtue. He wasn’t fit for marriage anymore… A chief had to marry, had to have heirs. He couldn’t be chief. His status was ruined. “Oh Thor, I can’t-”

“Don’t think about that right now,” Stoick cut him off. “You’ll face it when the time comes and I’ll be by your side.”

Hiccup felt that ache in his throat again. Stoick was talking like it was a certainty, but that was relying on a lot of if’s. If they both got out of this. If they freed their tribe. If Hiccup remained free and wasn’t taken away. If, if, if…

“Do you know where Gobber is?” Hiccup asked after a time in heavy silence. “O-or anyone?”

A pause.

“No.” The word was like the drop of an executioner’s axe. 

Hiccup’s lungs burned with needles when he inhaled deeply. 

“I want to see Toothless.”

“I know.”

There was no more talking after that. Hiccup was alright with that. He shifted around to get as comfortable as he possibly could, his chains rattling reminders of his captivity in his ears. Then he fell asleep and luckily didn’t dream.

  
  


Hiccup woke to someone irritatingly patting his face. When at first he didn’t respond, there was suddenly a sharp slap. He jolted up with a gasp, eyes wide, hand flying to his cheek.

“Viggo, you-!”

“Sh, your father’s sleeping,” Viggo said as he sat on the end of the bed. “You wouldn’t want to wake him.”

Hiccup smoldered, though Viggo was right. He’d rather whatever happened next be in relative privacy. He eyed the tray in Viggo’s lap, and his stomach rumbled. Food seemed like a good idea, anything to regain his energy.

Viggo took the sound as a cue and put the tray down on his lap so he could reach. Hiccup continued studying it. He knew he couldn’t trust anything Viggo gave him, but he also couldn’t starve himself.

Hiccup picked up an apple, tossed it. “I didn’t know apples were aphrodisiacs,” he said as nonchalantly as he could manage. He forced himself to take a bite out of it, pretending to be uncaring. He was sure that’s what Viggo was feeding him. He wanted to turn him into the perfect pleasure slave, and that meant conditioning his body like this.

Viggo’s mouth upturned. “Hm, smart boy.” He took the other apple from the tray, looked it over. “They are indeed. As with everything else I’m feeding you. I personally think they’re good foods though.” He took a bite of the apple, chewed thoughtfully. “Save for oysters. I can’t stand those. What about you?”

“Never had them.” Hiccup hated how they were having a conversation while eating. There was something so strange about seeing Viggo eat. He always presented himself as being above human necessity like that. Of course he wasn’t, but it was strange to view it. This monster still had to eat like the rest of them. 

“We’ll find out then. I have your diet carefully planned out.”

“Thanks,” Hiccup mumbled glumly.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Viggo chastised.

Hiccup had the urge to be terribly immature and mimic him or spit his food at him, but he did nothing of the sort, just glared and continued eating.

There were quite a few new foods that Hiccup had on his tray. He couldn’t help asking what each one was. He didn’t quite like the banana, but not at all because of the taste. It was just too… phallic, and the way Viggo studied him as he put it in his mouth made his skin crawl. 

The chocolate was interesting, a mix of bitter and sweet, and he found that it was almost like he couldn’t get enough of it, but then it was gone. He went to strawberries after trying a few new things, wanting something familiar, though it was starting to make him terribly uncomfortable that some foods that were so common were now being used to turn his body into something he didn’t want. There was nothing he could do about it though. If he didn’t eat he would never be able to escape. Or he’d die, and that wasn’t an option right now, not when his father, Toothless, and his people were in danger.

After Hiccup finished off the rest of the food on the tray, Viggo removed a packet of herbs from the satchel he’d brought with him. Hiccup tried to peek inside to see if there were any instruments to hurt him with in there, but he couldn’t get a good look and Viggo quickly closed it.

“Here.” He handed him the herbs. “I found your healer woman. Small, old, doesn’t talk, correct?”

Hiccup hesitated before he nodded. Was Gothi safe?

“Well, after some uh, convincing she gave me these for you. For your lungs.”

Hiccup wished his could cross his arms. “Convincing?”

“She’s unharmed, I assure you.” Viggo pushed the herbs at him. “Knives don’t always have to cut to be useful. Besides, she was more than willing once I explained that they were for you.”

Hiccup took the herbs, inspected them. He couldn’t remember much of being sick, having spent the entirety of it in a haze of agony and fever, but when he put the herbs in his mouth they tasted familiar. He’d had them before. They were safe.

“Good,” Viggo commented as Hiccup chewed them and made a face at the bitter taste. “Don’t need you coughing a lung out on me.” Hiccup actually agreed with him on that.

Hiccup’s body was already beginning to feel relaxed from the food - loose and pleasantly warm - so it took him a moment to react when Viggo drew a syringe from the satchel. His movements were confident, deliberate. This was going to happen whether Hiccup wanted it to or not.

“What’s in that?” His voice was higher from fear. He found himself tugging at his chains.

Viggo had set the tray on the floor and out of the way, and now he was pulling the blanket aside, which made Hiccup terribly afraid of where the needle would go. 

“What do you think?”

_ More  _ aphrodisiacs? Or, no, he could be drugging him with something else, something worse. He inched back to press his back against the headboard, but Viggo followed. Hiccup wanted to kick him but he was on the side of his amputation.

“No, no, don’t  _ touch  _ me!”

Viggo took his left knee, pulled his leg to the side.

_ No, no, not my cock. Not my balls. Please. _

But Viggo wasn’t examining there. His eyes were on his inner thigh, and his hand moved to grip close to there, hard. Hiccup whimpered. This was going to hurt.

“This will be easier if you don’t struggle.”

Hiccup knew he was right, and he also knew there was no getting out of it. He braced himself, tightened his hands into fists.

The needle pierced him in the soft spot in the innermost part of his thigh, right in a rather large vein.  _ Wow _ , did it hurt! He’d known it would be painful but he hadn’t expected a simple needle to hurt so damn much. He gave a cry, panted, winced, moaned. Whatever Viggo injected into him burned and it was like he could feel it roasting through his veins. His mouth fell open in heavy breaths as Viggo withdrew the needle. He rubbed his thumb in circles over the injection site, and mm, that felt good. The burning was becoming pleasant, a nice heat under his skin, a rush of blood, and, oh- his cock stirred.

Hiccup whimpered upon realizing what was happening.

“Not again, not again.  _ Please  _ not again.”

“Sh, Hiccup.” Viggo set the syringe aside, shifted closer. “I’m not going to fuck you now, alright? Just going to help.”

Heat in his blood. Lust. Dear gods he  _ needed  _ it.

“Don’t touch me.”

“It’s either this or you pleasure yourself in front of me,” Viggo told him. “It’s not going to go away on its own.”

Hiccup didn’t move. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want it, but on the other hand, his cock was absolutely searing. He wanted sexual gratification so badly it nearly hurt. Just like before. Tears welled in his eyes. He couldn’t stand how well Viggo was manipulating his body. It wasn’t  _ fair. _

Hiccup’s hand went to his cock. He made a motion, stroked himself, just barely, but shame filled his chest and he stopped. He couldn’t possibly do this in front of him.

Viggo pushed his hand aside, grasped him with his own, and Hiccup shuddered and moaned. He was filled with such disgust and such fulfillment at the same time that it made him feel like ripping his hair out. He didn’t move though, didn’t protest.

“Oh, so good,” Viggo complimented. He leaned in, pressed his mouth beneath his right ear, and Hiccup moaned at the mix of good sensations. His hand was moving achingly slowly.

Hiccup relished that slowness for a time, especially when he twisted his hand around the head of his length. His other hand was stroking his hip. He was sucking at his neck, and he let his head fall back to give him access. There was no way out of this, and what he was giving him was better than the pains in his body.

It soon wasn’t enough though. He needed it faster, harder. He very suddenly wanted to fuck very badly.

“F-faster.”

“Only if you tell me something,” Viggo said against his neck.

“What?”

He nipped at his neck, making him gasp. “I noticed your Riders are very much absent. I need to know where they are and when they’re going to attack.”

Hiccup whined. He couldn’t tell him that, but he needed more than this. He thrusted his hips a little.

Viggo purred against his neck. “I’m enjoying your enthusiasm, but you have to tell me first.”

“I-I don’t know.” His other hand went up to his chest, had fingers tracing around a hardened nipple, and he wanted to be touched there so badly. He was so frustrated with this, with his body, couldn’t believe Viggo was using pleasure to question him instead of pain.

Teeth on his earlobe. “Surely you do. Let’s start with where they are. Dragon’s Edge?”

The answer slipped out breathlessly. “Yes.”

“Good. And when are they attacking?”

“I… Could be any time really.” Not wholly the truth, but it would work. “C-couldn’t send them anything but they’ll notice something is off eventually.”

“See? Was that so difficult?” Viggo rubbed his fingers over his nipple, pinched lightly, and Hiccup curved into him. His hand moved faster on his cock and he moaned in satisfaction.

After a time, that still wasn’t enough though. His body was burning and he needed relief. The words came out of his mouth unbidden, like someone else was controlling his movements and thoughts.

“Fuck me.”

Viggo smiled against his neck. “That’s what I was waiting for.”

Hiccup ended up on his stomach, and his wound hated it, but he couldn’t find the mental capacity to care. Viggo’s fingers were in him and coating him in that same oil from last night, and he was being surprisingly gentle about it. Then his cock was being pushed into him, so deep and gratifying. He was so quickly losing rational thought to this, wanted only to be fulfilled.

Viggo pressed his hands beside him to hold himself up, and then his hips were moving. It was slow at first, giving him time to grow used to it. There was pleasure sparking in his stomach, making him give high-pitched moans. Viggo would pull out rather far, dragging sweet friction through his insides, and then he would press in to his balls, rubbing against that bundle of nerves on the inside that had his cock leaking underneath him. The man was much quieter now, breathing the occasional quiet sigh. So the sounds had been for show, to taunt his father, but there was no need now that he wasn’t awake.

Viggo leaned over him, licked at the curve of one ear, making Hiccup shiver. “You feel so good, my dear,” he rumbled out. “So very good.”

His pace gradually increased till he was rapidly bouncing his hips against his ass. Hiccup gave cries with it. There was a pool of lava in his stomach that ran into his fingers and toes, and his cock burned and ached. His body was in love with it.

Viggo managed to keep the same steady pace, which Hiccup couldn’t help finding rather impressive. He wasn’t sure how long he fucked him for, but at some point he was releasing into him with short, sharp thrusts and a groan.

Once that was over Hiccup was on his back with Viggo’s hands between his legs. Two fingers breached him, rubbed insistently against his prostate. His other hand worked fervently at his cock. Hiccup was leaking like mad, arching into him, eyes closed so he didn’t have to see who was doing this to him.

He came hard, shook and shouted with it, moaning as Viggo worked him through the decline. His muscles pressed around his fingers as if his body couldn’t get enough of them.

Then it was over, and there was a body pressed against his and a tongue working over his nipples. It hurt but in the sweetest possible way. But even with that, he was beginning to lose consciousness, the intensity of the orgasm driving him further into exhaustion. The last sound he made was a quiet moan. He fell into darkness with Viggo’s mouth at his throat.

  
  


Stoick woke to Hiccup’s cries and moans. It upset him deeply that Viggo had come in while he was sleeping, had touched Hiccup while he was unawares. And like before, there was nothing he could do but wait and listen and suffer.

It ended with a shout on Hiccup’s part. Then, after a time, Viggo was coming back down the stairs. His steps were careful, heavier as if he was holding something. When he came into view, Stoick saw that he had Hiccup unconscious in his arms. He bristled.

“Where are you taking him?” he demanded, getting to his feet despite being hungry and thirsty and weak.

“For a bath,” Viggo answered, reaching the floor. “And then to my ship. He’ll recover better there for now.”

Fear pulsed through Stoick’s veins. “How do I know you’ll bring him back?”

Viggo met his eyes. “Because I’m telling you I will.”

“Your words mean nothing.”

Viggo shifted his hold on Hiccup, who murmured something in his sleep. Stoick wished the man had had the decency to at least put a blanket over him.

“Believe me, it’s not out of care for you,” Viggo told him. “I’m just not done playing yet. It’s only been a day.”

It didn’t matter that Viggo was saying he was going to bring Hiccup back. Stoick didn’t want him taken from him in the first place. What was he going to do to Hiccup on his ship? He knew he could do nothing to protect Hiccup here, but it made him feel better to at least  _ be  _ there. Now his son was just going to be surrounded by strangers who had hurt him and would have no qualms about continuing to do so.

And what if Viggo was lying? What if he was never going to get to see Hiccup again? What if this was… it?

Emotion hammered at Stoick’s chest and tears stung at his eyes. He knew there was no point asking Viggo not to take him, but he hoped his one small request would be met.

“Can I see him?” His voice was weak.

Viggo looked to be considering it, and then he sighed, rolled his eyes, and came over. Stoick reached out for Hiccup, laid a hand gently on his chest, cradled his head with the other. He didn’t wake, and Stoick didn’t have the heart to rouse him.

“Be brave, Hiccup,” he told him softly, tears falling free. His heart had broken so many times in the past day, but it was shattering all over again, and he hoped desperately that he would get him back. He wanted to fight, steal Hiccup from Viggo’s arms, but resistance had proven to be useless and painful. It hurt him beyond belief knowing that there was nothing he could do at the moment.

Uncaring of Viggo’s presence, Stoick leaned down and pressed a kiss to Hiccup’s forehead. “Know that I love you.”

Viggo made no comment, just pulled Hiccup away from him. Stoick crumbled to his knees once they were gone. He stared longingly at the door through a curtain of tears.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if it feels like time is dragging in the fic right now, but hell, a lot can happen in 72 hours.

Warmth encased Hiccup and he didn’t want to move, but his back and head weren’t exactly resting against something comfortable, and there was an awful stinging in his abdomen. He made a small sound, tried rolling onto his side, but there was a hand on his shoulder. Though, the movement completely awakened him. It had made him realize he was in water. He sat up straight, looked around in a panic, water and bubbles sloshing around with his movement.

“Easy, Hiccup.” Viggo’s voice was an attempt at soothing. He was kneeling in the stone tub cut into the floor in front of Hiccup, just as naked as he was. Though, Hiccup was glad that bubbles were covering his groin.

His look around had shown that he was in Berk’s bathhouse. Though, it was currently occupied by people he didn’t know, Dragon Hunters. It made him wonder how his people were doing.

Viggo reached over him, picked up a goblet that was sitting on the edge of the tub, and handed it to him. “Here. This will relax you.”

Hiccup took it, looked to see that it was red wine. When he took a small taste of it he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, so he let himself sip with a little more ease. He knew of course it had to be part of this diet Viggo was putting him on, but at the moment he didn’t mind. But earlier…

“It’s still rape,” Hiccup said quietly as guilt dug a hole through him.

“Excuse me?” Viggo was washing Hiccup’s right leg with a sponge. Hiccup wanted to tell him to leave him to do it on his own, but he knew he wouldn’t.

“Even though I told you to… It’s still rape. Filling me with hormones doesn’t count.” He wanted him to know that, didn’t want him thinking that had been consent. He felt more clear-headed now, but he wasn’t at his best. There was still something off, a nice heat in his stomach where there shouldn’t have been any.

“I frankly don’t care how you view it,” Viggo told him. “What matters is that I get what I want.”

Hiccup frowned, looked down into the goblet. It reminded him of blood. He took a longer sip. “And what you want is me as a slave.”

“Don’t be so forlorn about it,” Viggo said. “The more cooperative you are, the better treatment you will receive. Besides, being the pleasure slave of a chief is quite the honor.” Viggo flashed him a smile, very clearly trying to charm him and win him over. “You can have your own quarters if you wish, and other slaves to do your bidding. I’ll dress you in fine clothes and jewels. You’ll look quite grand.”

“I don’t want any of that.” Hiccup had never been very materialistic. Even if this was being offered to him instead of forced, he wouldn’t want it. What was the point in all of it? “I’m not your doll, Viggo.”

A hand came up, stroked over his face, and Hiccup tried tilting his head away but it followed.

“Yes, actually, you are.”

“What about what I want?” Hiccup asked as the hand went to his neck. Viggo stroked his thumb over his throat. The hold frightened him, made him feel like he was going to squeeze and strangle him if he said the wrong thing.

“Such as?”

 _Freedom. For you to leave. My dragon back. Justice for all the people you killed._ Thinking made him become entirely overwhelmed by the situation. He kept a straight face though.

“Care for my father.” If he was going to try to get anything from Viggo he had to start small. “He hasn’t been fed or given water and he needs medical attention.”

“I’m well aware. I’m the one who ordered it.” Viggo took the goblet from Hiccup and set it aside. “Now brace yourself, my dear.” He nodded his head towards his stomach. “That wound needs cleaning.” That was clearly the end of the conversation.

Hiccup hadn’t looked at it, knew that he would feel sick if he did. It felt like the spikes from the belt had torn his flesh in jagged, disconnected lines, and there was a slash where the leather had cut. It burned terribly.

Hiccup jumped and shouted when the sponge touched his wound, but Viggo clamped a hand on one shoulder to keep him in place. His movements with the sponge weren’t rough, but still firm, clinical. It had to be cleaned and he didn’t care about the pain it caused.

Hiccup wanted to yell at him to stop, but he was actually helping. It only added to his confusion. He dug nails into the side of the tub.

Once it was done Viggo was pushing the goblet at him, and he took it, nearly downed it, wanting to ease the pain. The pleasant heat returned to his stomach, spread into his fingers and toes, and for now he was fine with it. He didn’t want to feel or think at the moment. Everything hurt too much. He’d rather that Viggo just take him and leave Berk alone than what he was doing now. It was just too much to handle.

Viggo put a finger on the bottom of the goblet and tipped it, an order for him to finish the whole thing, and so he did. At the moment, now being barraged by thoughts of his people, Hiccup found himself hoping for the aphrodisiacs, for the thoughtlessness of lust, because right now his thoughts were hurting too much. He didn’t know where it had come from, why the cleaning of his wound had sparked it.

He set the now-empty goblet down with trembling fingers, and suddenly he was crying. It hurt to try to twist himself away from Viggo, so he just sat like that, facing him, head in his hands, sobs shaking through his body. He felt so ashamed crying in front of his tormentor and the oppressor of his people, but he couldn’t make himself stop. Gods the _suffering_ they were all going through! The people they had lost!

A hand on his shoulder, stroking. He angrily slapped it away.

“Don’t touch me!”

Viggo did though. Not in anymore attempts at a comforting manner, but at continuing his bath. He pulled his hands away from his face and lifted his arms and tugged and moved him like a puppet. Hiccup still couldn’t stop crying, and he couldn’t stop Viggo either. Everything hurt so terribly that he just wanted to scream until he had no voice.

_You monster! You fucking monster!_

He couldn’t bring himself to say it, to make words, so he just let Viggo wash him. He was in a daze of sheer anger and pain, couldn’t seem to pull himself out of it, and it was like the real world held no effect on him.

Hiccup was cleaned and dried. His sobs had mostly stopped but his tears wouldn’t. He found himself laughing hysterically when a white robe was put on him. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why. It felt like a cruel irony.

The whole time, Viggo had been silent. He took care of dressing himself while Hiccup just sat on the floor in tears and laughter and broken sobs. He didn’t have his prosthetic, so there wasn’t much point in standing.

He wanted to stop. All this was hurting his weakened lungs. What was _wrong_ with him?

No, nothing. Absolutely nothing. How was he _supposed_ to react to his home being invaded and his people raped, tortured, and slaughtered? To his dad being left to die? To being made a slave in his own home to the worst man he’d ever met?

Somehow, the return of thought brought him into silence. His face was tear-stained, but he didn’t bother wiping at it.

Viggo stood over him, looked him over with hands on his hips. “Do you want to crawl or be carried?”

Hiccup couldn’t believe the question. Here he was, a chief’s son, reduced to this. Both ways were a stripping of his dignity, but he did feel like one was worse than the other.

“Carried.” His answer was hoarse.

Viggo said nothing, just leaned down to pick him up, and Hiccup was compliant in it, even wrapped his arms around the back of his neck to help hold himself up. Hiccup hated that he was already getting used to the feeling of Viggo touching him. Before this, they’d never even made physical contact with each other.

Hiccup took a look around as they left the bathhouse. People were outside, working on repairing the damage from the battle. They were Berk’s people, carefully watched by Dragon Hunters. Hiccup wished that the hammers and axes he saw being put to work would instead be turned against the Hunters, but they’d fought and lost already, with real weapons. What were tools going to do?

He watched until curious eyes turned on him. Lowering his head didn’t do much to cover his face, so Hiccup ended up with no choice but to hide his face in Viggo’s neck. Shame made him want to shrivel up and die, disappear from existence and the possible judgment of those stares. Thor, what did they think of him?

After a time, Hiccup realized they should have been at his house already. He chanced a look up, noticed instead they were heading towards the docks. Fear clutched at his heart.

“Wait, where are you taking me?!”

“Don’t panic.” Viggo’s hold tightened on him. “We’re not leaving yet. Just taking you to my ship. You’ll do better there. You won’t have to be kept chained.”

“But my father-”

“You’ll see him again.”

Hiccup very much hoped so. He knew he couldn’t trust Viggo, but he clung to those words.

“Where’s Toothless?”

“Safely onboard. You’ll get to see him if you’re good.”

Hiccup wasn’t quite sure what being “good” would entail, but he desperately wanted to see Toothless, maybe get him out somehow. They could accomplish a lot together, but alone, he felt like nothing, especially if all this could be done to him.

Hiccup paid a great deal of attention to his surroundings as they boarded the ship. If he wanted to get out, he would have to know where he was, and where the guards were stationed. Viggo’s quarters were distinct, which made this easier, placed behind a door engraved with gold. The bed was by a porthole. It was easily large enough for two people, covered in furs that Hiccup soon found to be comfortable as he was placed on it.

He suddenly felt like crying again, and so the tears came with little warning. He pushed himself away from Viggo, sat with his legs pulled up and his head down, trying to make himself seem as small and uninteresting as possible.

Viggo moved close, laid a hand on his back, and Hiccup wanted to shift away from him, but if he did he’d fall off the bed. It was all pointless. There was nothing he could do to get away from Viggo. All the crying was making his lungs hurt badly, and the wound on his stomach wasn’t happy about it either. His mind and heart felt like they’d been impaled. It was all too much.

“Do you want another injection?” Viggo asked. Of course that was all he had to offer as a form of comfort. Mindless lust and physical pleasure.

But… Hiccup would take it. He felt like he was drowning in his thoughts and feelings, and he very much wanted relief. If this was the only form relief would come in, he was willing.

He nodded.

Hiccup didn’t pay attention as Viggo got up off the bed and rummaged through some things. Upon returning he was pushing him onto his back and pulling open his robe. Whereas Viggo had gone for his left thigh before, now he was going for his right. He pushed at his right leg, held him by the knee. His mouth went to his hip, trailed down to his inner thigh, and nerves sparked at the pain that was going to follow. It would luckily be quick though.

Viggo’s mouth left and then the needle was there. Hiccup hadn’t wanted to yell like he had earlier, but it came from him nonetheless. The burn was unpleasant at first, a rushing of fire through his veins that hurt. Then it became pleasant, raging. It wasn’t long till it drove out his thoughts and his cock was hardening. He moaned as it did.

Viggo reached over him, set the syringe on the nightstand, and brought his mouth back to his thigh. His right hand ran pleasantly over his body. Hiccup wished he didn’t need bandages so he could feel the touch on his stomach too.

When he lifted himself up, Hiccup was hopeful for a moment that his mouth would go to his cock, but he pulled himself upwards and pressed his lips to his, tangling the fingers of one hand into his hair. Hiccup kept his arms by his sides, entirely unsure of what do with them. He didn’t kiss back, but he let Viggo put his tongue in his mouth and moaned into him when he did.

“Mm, you have such a good mouth.” Viggo tugged at his hair to pull his head to the side, nipped at the side of his neck, and Hiccup liked that. He grabbed at his hair with one hand without thinking, curved into him.

“J-just don’t fuck me.” Hiccup could tell it hadn’t been long since the last time. Though his body was craving it, he didn’t think he could handle it at the moment.

“I won’t.”

“You said that earlier and then you did.”

Viggo licked at the side of his neck and Hiccup shivered, moaned a little.

“That’s because you told me to.”

Right. He’d done that. Hiccup groaned in distress, found himself with his hands at Viggo’s chest trying to shove him off, but he was heavy and persistent, and he was weak.

“Do not fight me, my dear Hiccup.” One of Viggo’s hands traced the inside of a thigh, such a sweet feeling, so close to his cock. “I’ll give you pleasure and satisfaction. I promise.”

Hiccup had no response to that. Right now, that was all he wanted.

Viggo’s touches were slow, sensual. His hands would run over his thighs and his hips without ever brushing him where he most wanted to be touched. Then they would run up, slightly calloused palms dragging across his hardening nipples. His mouth worked wonders at his neck, sucking and kissing and licking. Hiccup moved with his hands, breathing hard though it stabbed needles into his lungs, sighing.

“ _Please_ ,” Hiccup whined as Viggo’s hands almost touched his cock again. “Oh _please_.” All he could think about was his skin on his, how big and sure his hands were.

His mouth fell open as Viggo cupped his balls. Gods, _finally._ He gave them a firm squeeze, rubbed his thumb over them, and Hiccup let out a high-pitched moan, both his hands going to Viggo’s back so he could have something to hold onto to get through the pleasure. He was glad he was without armor and in a tunic.

Viggo hummed against him, worked his tongue and his teeth at his collarbone. He gripped his cock, stroked slowly, mouth finding a nipple.

“ _Oh-h-h-h fuck_.”

“You like that, Hiccup?”

He couldn’t respond. He didn’t understand if this counted as consent or not. It didn’t _feel_ like consent. He still didn’t want Viggo, but he’d nodded to the injection. He wasn’t fighting, was holding onto him, and his body wanted it. But underneath the physical pleasure everything just felt so wrong.

Thinking. It was somehow returning despite the rampant desire. No, he had to make it stop.

“D-don’t ask me that. Don’t ask me questions.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Hm, too much thinking for you,” Viggo presumed, hitting it dead on. He took Hiccup’s nipple between his teeth, bit hard, and that made Hiccup cry out and arch into him. “Alright. I suppose that’s fair.” He chuckled. “So you _want_ to be my brainless whore.”

Hiccup whimpered. He just wanted Viggo to stop talking in general, but he doubted he could get him to do that. His words were too much to handle.

He licked and sucked at each of his nipples, and it just made his cock burn. Then he was moving down his body, putting his head between his legs. He lavished each of his thighs with kisses and rough bites that Hiccup found himself enjoying, and then his mouth went to his center, a warm and wet tongue landing on his balls. Hiccup moaned loudly in satisfaction. Viggo’s tongue ran up, from the base of his length to the tip, teased at his slit as precum trickled out. He had a flash of memory, of having something in there, and fear took him for a second, but dissipated quickly as Viggo pumped him firmly and slowly and kissed the head.

“Oh, such a pretty cock,” he breathed between kisses. “I wonder what it looks like taking someone. Someone’s bound to enjoy it with your size.”

“M-my size?”

Viggo trailed kisses along the underside of him before speaking. “You’re bigger than average, dear.”

“Oh,” was all Hiccup had to say to that. He had never really thought about that, hadn’t cared too much. He wasn’t one to wonder about the sizes of other people’s cocks. He figured it wasn’t his business unless he was their partner, and he’d never been very interested in taking a male lover. It didn’t appeal to him, but now, with the aphrodisiacs and the pleasure Viggo was giving him, he didn’t care. He’d be content with anyone at the moment as long as they got him off. He even found himself wanting something in his ass, wanting the sweet rub across his prostate, the pounding, but he hurt down there. It wouldn’t be a good idea.

Viggo encased him in his mouth, and Hiccup made to buck into him, but then he was holding him down by the hip. He took him down to where he had his fist wrapped around his base, and that had part of him going into his throat. It was so tight and hot and wet, and Hiccup shuddered at it, curled his toes. That felt _so_ good.

“Fuck.”

Viggo hummed, the vibrations of his voice trembling through his nerves, and Hiccup moaned. He hated liking this, but gods he couldn’t _help_ it. He was filled with hormones and Viggo was too good at what he was doing.

He slowly bobbed his head over him and sucked, and Hiccup chanced a look down to see him entirely focused on what he was doing. It was beyond strange to see Viggo, his enemy, between his legs like that, and it made him feel like he was being punched, but he made himself keep watching for the part of himself that liked how his cock looked going into his mouth. Then Viggo flicked his gaze up to his, and Hiccup’s breath left him. He couldn’t stand it, and so he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, panting.

This went on for a time, slow and steady, and Hiccup wanted faster and harder, wanted to fuck into Viggo’s mouth the way he had with him without a care to his pain, wanted to cum down his inevitably bruised throat and make him choke. The thought frightened him. It wasn’t like him to feel malicious, but Viggo deserved the worst anyone could imagine after all he had done.

Then Viggo pulled off of him with a pop, gasping. He knelt between his legs, took his cock in one hand and tugged upwards, the saliva letting it slide. As soon as that hand was over the head and gone, it was replaced with his other, making the same motion. Hiccup clutched at the furs and let out his moans. The motions continued, just a cycle of constant tugging on his cock. The pleasure would peak as he reached the head, then grow again with the other hand, and continue growing. He’d never felt pleasure like this on his cock before. Why was Viggo so excellent at this?

Hiccup twisted his head, arched into him. Words came out of him without him meaning to.

“Yeah, yeah!”

He felt guilty after shouting it, like he shouldn’t be enjoying this, but the aphrodisiac had forced him into a place of sheer arousal that could only be abated with this. He needed it.

His orgasm was steadily tugged from him, and it came upon him hard. It made him shout and buck and curl his fingers and toes. _Gods_ , it was so satisfying, so perfect. Viggo worked him through it with a single hand, stroking him through the decline as he heaved and moaned. Then he was releasing him and leaning down, licking his seed from his skin, even going so far as to lick along his cock and spark the pain of oversensitivity through him. Hiccup shouted, but it didn’t last long, and he was let back into bliss, his body buzzing.

Finished with that, Viggo lay beside him, rubbed a hand over his chest. His lips found his cheek.

“Beautiful, Hiccup,” he praised. “Just beautiful.”

Hiccup made no response. He didn’t look at him, just stared at the opposite wall, working on catching his breath. He felt warm all over, good. His thoughts had yet to return, leaving him feeling oddly empty and blank, but he didn’t mind. He was okay with staring at the wall and thinking of nothing. He didn’t even bother to fix his robe.

After a few minutes of silence though, something came to the surface.

“Can I see Toothless?”

Viggo caressed his chest. “Only if you do some things for me.”

“Like?”

That had Viggo moving. He rolled onto his back and sat up, and then there was a shuffle of fabric. Hiccup looked, saw him with his cock out and half hard. He didn’t like that.

“Come here and suck me.”

Hiccup sat up, pulled his robe shut and tied the sash, and positioned himself between Viggo’s legs. He didn’t want to do this, but he desperately wanted to see Toothless, and that overrode that.

Hesitating only a little, Hiccup took Viggo in one hand and lowered his mouth to him. He’d now learned from having it done to him that there was more to this than just shoving the appendage in his mouth. He kissed the large head of it, then down the underside, ran his tongue back up. Viggo became fully erect with his touch, and a sigh left him, a big hand going to land in his hair. Like many times before, Hiccup was struck by the sheer size of the man. He’d run into larger men, but he’d never been forced to fuck any of them.

“That’s it,” Viggo breathed as Hiccup suckled at the head. The saltiness of precum entered his mouth, and he found himself pulling off of him and making a face at it. He very much didn’t like it in his mouth, didn’t like the way it looked as it trickled from his slit.

“Be good and lick that up.”

“I don’t like it,” Hiccup argued.

“Fine. Then I fuck your throat and you don’t get to see your dragon.”

Hiccup looked up at Viggo as his fingers twisted in his hair. He didn’t want a repeat of what he had done yesterday. Well, he thought it was yesterday. He was starting to lose track of time. There was a challenge in Viggo’s eyes, a smirk on his lips. He _wanted_ Hiccup to protest and not get to see Toothless.

Hiccup narrowed his eyes at him. He wanted to say something insulting but didn’t know what that would get him at the moment. Then he was breaking eye contact and doing as he’d said, licking his precum into his mouth and forcing himself to swallow. He wrapped his lips around him, took him into his mouth as far as he could without activating his gag reflex. He began to bob his head over that space.

“Use your hand where you can’t reach me.”

Hiccup took his… order? Advice? and began doing as he said, pumping him where his mouth couldn’t reach.

“ _Yes_. You have beautiful hands.”

Viggo seemed to be content with that for a time, letting out the occasional quiet moan, but then he was pushing on Hiccup’s head, a clear demand to take more of him. Hiccup made a sound of protest around him. There was no way he could do that. It had hurt him yesterday.

“It’s alright. Relax.” Viggo’s voice was soft. “Curl your thumb under your fingers and squeeze. It’ll help you not to gag. And hum as well. It’ll open your throat.”

This was the last thing Hiccup wanted to be doing, but he took his advice. Anything to make this easier. He only choked a little when Viggo entered his throat. It was horribly uncomfortable and the stretch didn’t help, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the first time this had happened. It had him aching and he wanted him out, but he was sure he could endure it. Yes, he could do this. To see Toothless.

Viggo pushed on his head till his nose was in his pubic hair. A small, victorious laugh left him. His voice was like gravel when he spoke, and for some reason it had heat spearing through Hiccup’s stomach. “Oh, this is how I’ve always wanted you.”

Then he was tugging on his hair, pulling him steadily up, and then shoving him back down. Hiccup forgot about the techniques he’d given him in a flash of panic, choked. He grabbed at Viggo’s thighs, eyes tightly shut. He forced him to bob his head on him, thrusted in and out of his throat, filling the space with Hiccup’s obscene sounds and his choking. He couldn’t help drooling all over him, and he forgot to breathe through his nose.

Viggo eventually released him, let him pull his head up and cough and gasp for breath. A string of saliva connected Hiccup to his cock before falling to land down the side of him. Viggo’s hand went around the back of his neck, thumb stroking along his aching throat.

“It’s alright, my dear. You did fine. Just breathe.” His other hand caressed his hair. “How do your lungs feel?”

“They’d feel better if you let me get some damn rest,” Hiccup responded hoarsely. Viggo’s gentle touches felt good, and it made him shiver. He hated it.

“You can rest for as long as you wish after you see your dragon.”

Hiccup didn’t quite believe him on that. He wanted to rest _now_.

That didn’t matter though, and so Viggo was pushing his head back onto him. He let him take him at his own pace this time, though still forced him to take him into his throat. It wasn’t as difficult when he did it slowly though.

After a time, Viggo directed him to just suck and bob over the head and pump him quickly with his hand. He wanted to get off, and that made Hiccup’s stomach twist in revulsion, but he did it anyway. The only warning he got was a throb, and then Viggo was moaning and releasing into his mouth in spurts that hit the back of his throat and made him choke. He pulled off of him to gag, and that had cum dribbling out of his mouth and the rest of his load shooting onto his face. Humiliation tore a hole straight through his stomach and out the other side. He tightly shut his eyes, not wanting to see Viggo’s reaction.

Viggo’s breath caught. “Gods, you look lovely with my seed on your face.” He took him by the chin and lifted his head. His other hand went to his face, two fingers wiping at the substance on his cheeks, then scooping up what was dripping down his chin and pushing it all into his mouth. There was a richness to it, and Hiccup tried his best to ignore the taste. He took the implicit order and sucked it off of Viggo’s fingers. “There you go. Get all of it. It has protein, you know. Some minerals too I believe. You could use those.”

Hiccup spoke once the fingers left his mouth, opened his eyes. “So you think I’m too skinny.”

“Nonsense. Your body is perfect.” Viggo wiped more of the substance from his face and put his fingers back in Hiccup’s mouth. “Just don’t want you getting fragile.”

Once that was finished, Viggo tapped his own lips. “Come up here and kiss me.”

Hiccup crawled into Viggo’s lap and put his hands at his shoulders. He looked at his mouth, licked his lips. He’d just sucked his cock but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to willingly kiss him. He didn’t understand why it felt like such a big deal to him, but it did.

Viggo took him by the hips. “Come now, Hiccup. Don’t you want to see your dragon?”

He did. He really did. And this was standing in the way of that.

_Dammit, just do it!_

So he did. He hadn’t paid much attention to Viggo’s lips before, but they were soft and plump and in another situation he might have liked them. His beard felt nice against his face. So… maybe he did like men as well as women, but certainly not _this_ man.

Viggo took control of the kiss, which he was glad for, because he didn’t quite know what he was doing. He didn’t just sit there though, knew that wouldn’t get him what he wanted. He moved his lips with his, and when he felt a tongue against him he opened his mouth and allowed it entrance. Viggo’s hands went to his ass and for a moment he grew afraid of him fucking him, but then realized he probably couldn’t get another erection so soon because of his age. He was safe for now.

Hiccup was deeply upset that the first person for him to ever make out with was Viggo Grimborn. He tried making it better by telling himself that at least he was good at it, but that didn’t help. He was left remembering when Dagur had wanted to do all these same things to him without his consent, and he actually found himself wishing for him right now rather than Viggo. At least Dagur was on ally now, though Hiccup still had a lot to deal with emotionally with him. He’d touched and held him without his consent before, but at least he’d never molested or raped him. And he knew him well too, had known him his whole life, but he’d only known Viggo for less than a year, and as an enemy no less. He was again filled with horror and disgust at what was happening to him, and he yanked his head away. Viggo wasn’t going to take that. He firmly, nearly painfully, gripped the back of his head and forced him back onto him, and Hiccup could do nothing but kiss back.


	6. Chapter 6

Viggo would only take Hiccup to see Toothless once he’d eaten another meal filled with aphrodisiacs. Hiccup had been going to eat anyway, but he understood why Viggo used Toothless as incentive for that. He’d eaten reluctantly, not wanting to put more of the stuff in his body. There was no break from the pleasant, relaxing heat that almost bordered on lust now. It would be much too easy to arouse him if one wanted, and Viggo certainly did, but not at the moment. Now, he was carrying him down to the cells where the dragons were kept, and nerves pulled a knot in Hiccup’s stomach. Viggo had told him that Toothless had been unharmed, but what if he’d been lying? What if he was hurt? What if he was  _ dead? _

Hiccup saw a black shape in one of the cells, a familiar one. He shoved himself out of Viggo’s hold, landed on his one foot, fell forward and leaned against the bars of the cell to remain upright.

“Toothless, Toothless!”

His dragon perked up instantly. He’d been laying with his wings over himself as a form of protection, but now he unfurled them and excitedly approached the bars at Hiccup’s voice. Hiccup was hurt to see a metal muzzle over his snout, tightly locked into place. He’d been hoping it would be one of the leather straps so that he could pull it off, but he realized he shouldn’t have expected it. Why would Viggo have left his hands untied if it wasn’t completely secure?

“Oh, I missed you, bud,” Hiccup said softly, filling with emotion. He reached his hand into the cell, and Toothless pressed his nose against his palm. It was the most comfort he’d felt in the past 24 hours, and it made tears well in his eyes. Toothless cooed and rumbled affectionately. He seemed excited. But then his eyes flicked to Viggo, standing there tall and imposing with his hands behind his back. His face fell. He knew he wasn’t being let out. 

“I’m sorry,” Hiccup told him. “I’m so sorry you’re in here. Are you hurt? Are they feeding you?” 

Toothless shook his body to show him that he was uninjured, that everything worked properly. He was without his saddle and prosthetic.

“He’s been making feeding difficult,” Viggo said. “Uses all his shots as soon as the muzzle’s off.”

Now that he mentioned it, Hiccup noticed the scorch marks on the bars of the cell, the walls of it. 

“Has he killed anyone?” Hiccup didn’t feel bad for their deaths, but he was just curious.

“Three.”

Hiccup stuck both his hands into the cell, rubbed Toothless’ head and scratched him under the chin at the same time. His friend rumbled happily at that, closed his eyes, and Hiccup smiled to see him at least a little relaxed. It felt good to have contact with him. He wanted to curl up with him and feel safe. But they were separated by bars and both trapped in their own way.

“I can help feed him.”

Viggo laughed. “Don’t think I’m so stupid, Hiccup, my dear. The bond you two have is dangerous. You’d free him and yourself. I can’t allow it.”

Hiccup didn’t turn to him, just shrugged. “Fine. Lose more men then.”

Viggo snorted. “At least I won’t be losing profits.” His footsteps approached, and then suddenly his arms were there, yanking him away from Toothless, scooping him up.

“Hey!” Hiccup yelled as Toothless made a sound of distress. “Please! That was barely any time!” He frantically kicked, but he was no match for Viggo’s size. He was walking away, and Hiccup squirmed in his arms, reached out desperately for Toothless, who was pressing himself against the bars, but they were out of reach. “Let me go! Toothless!”

Toothless rose up, scratched at the bars, making noises from his chest. Hiccup’s tears fell now. He  _ needed  _ his dragon. 

“Toothless! Please! Let me go, let me go!”

They left the cells, and Toothless vanished from sight. Hiccup shouted in anguish, managed to tear himself from Viggo’s arms. He toppled to the floor, started crawling for the door. Then there were strong legs on either side of him, a hand grabbing him, an arm pressing against his throat. He choked and struggled, blinded by his crying. Gods, everything hurt so much. Toothless was going to be sold. What if he never got to see him again? The thought made Hiccup want to scream, but he couldn’t with Viggo’s forearm crushing his throat.

“Do I need to fuck you into submission right here where anyone can see?”

Hiccup didn’t want that. He quit his struggling, and so the hold lightened up, let him pull in heaving breaths. His chest hurt, but he knew it wasn’t from his lungs this time.

“Y-you barely gave me any time.” His voice was weak.

“You will get more if you’re good.” Now Viggo was picking him up again, and Hiccup didn’t fight this time. He remained quiet, unsure of what to say to him.

Hiccup put his back to Viggo as soon as he was placed on the bed. Luckily, he let him stay like that, didn’t touch him, just started tucking him into the furs. Hiccup closed his eyes. He was feeling horribly depressed, but also tired. If he was being allowed to sleep he should take it. He wondered when Viggo would sleep, started thinking of escape as he drifted off. 

  
  


Hiccup woke from horrible dreams with Viggo’s hand on his shoulder. He was sweating, breathing hard.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Dinner,” Viggo told him, pulling his arm away. “Do you need help getting to the table or-”

“I can do that myself,” Hiccup cut him off, not liking the state of dependence he’d been put into with the taking of his prosthetic. He wondered where it was, if Viggo had kept it. If it was anywhere in this room, it was no doubt locked away and the key hidden. He shoved the furs off of himself, managed to hop over to the table on one foot. He didn’t like that Viggo pulled the chair out for him like this was some sort of courtship, but he let him.

“May I inquire as to what you were dreaming about?” Viggo asked, sitting across from him. His plate looked very different from Hiccup’s. There was a lot of seafood on his own. Luckily, Hiccup didn’t mind it… well, the taste. He minded the intended effects. Hiccup picked up the goblet, looked into it. Red wine. Of course.

Hiccup set the goblet back down, trying not to bristle at the question. He picked up his silverware. 

“No.”

Viggo’s lips upturned a little. “You shouted my name.”

Hiccup just looked at his plate as he began cutting into his food, frowning. “I can assure you it wasn’t an ecstatic yell.” He didn’t want to think about his dreams. They’d all been horrid, nightmare after nightmare, just fading into the next, and he was unsure of where one had ended and another had begun. Images of his friends being raped by Dragon Hunters, by Ryker and Viggo, himself being raped by Viggo again and again, his father tortured to death in front of him, him tortured to death in front of his father, Toothless mutilated and killed and his head given to him like some sort of gift. He had no appetite, but he didn’t want Viggo forcing him to eat. Though, after sleeping unchained in a comfortable bed, his lungs felt marginally better. 

Viggo tapped his fingers on the table as he lifted his goblet to his mouth with his other hand. “You’ll learn to like the things I do to you.” He took a sip. “You’ll start to crave it.”

Hiccup gripped his silverware hard, gritting his teeth. He examined the knife. It was blunt, only meant for spreading butter. 

“What are the consequences of me fighting?” Better to know than to act unknowingly.

“Oh, there are so many things I could do to punish that,” Viggo answered. “Torture your father, execute ten of the villagers, chain up your dragon and have him beaten till his ribs break. All in front of you of course. You need to see the product of your actions.”

It was easy to realize that none of these punishments laid any direct harm on him. Hiccup would have preferred that. He could take pain and misery for himself, but when it was others who suffered he couldn’t bear to witness it. And Viggo knew that. 

“You’re going to stay until I’m broken,” Hiccup realized. “You need as many pieces to throw away as possible to do it. You know you can’t break me without them.”

“Precisely.”

“What if we just leave now?” Hiccup didn’t want to, especially since he hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to his father, but he wanted to secure the safety of Berk. “I won’t fight you and you let everyone go.”

“But see, if you were broken, you wouldn’t be negotiating, wouldn’t be asking me the consequences of fighting.”

_ Fuck.  _ This was tricky. How was Hiccup supposed to get out of this without bringing harm to anyone else? How was he supposed to resist when the stakes were so high? He couldn’t just give in to him though.

Viggo waved a hand. “Never mind your captivity. I have a question for you.”

Hiccup didn’t make any indication that he would answer said question, just put food in his mouth and smoldered at Viggo.

“The prosthetic tail fin. It doesn’t operate on its own, does it?”

An opportunity opened.

“No,” Hiccup answered honestly. This was good. He was the only one that knew how to operate it, how to make and repair it and keep it working. It was a connection to Toothless. Viggo wanted to sell Toothless, but Toothless couldn’t fly without him.

“Is there anyway to make one that works without you?”

_ Time to lie. _

“No. I’ve tried.” Hiccup shook his head, doing his best to seem frustrated. “Again and again, but nothing ever works or remains stable.”

“Hm…” Viggo put food in his mouth, and even that was elegant. He chewed thoughtfully. “I have to think more on what to sell him for then. He would make a good trophy for sure, but I’m not certain how many people would want a broken Night Fury.”

Hiccup ground his teeth at the words. “Oh, so am I broken too?”

“Excuse me?”

“You called Toothless broken because he’s missing a tail fin. Am I broken because I’m missing a leg?”

Viggo huffed, rolled his eyes. “Dragons are different, my dear. An object, a commodity. Would you keep a spear with a broken haft?”

“If it was important to me, I’d find a way to help the spear to function normally again,” Hiccup said firmly. “Which is the point of the prosthetic. He’s not broken without it. It just helps.”

Viggo shook his head, looking amused of all things. It made Hiccup feel offended. He’d managed to rile him up and wasn’t even acknowledging that he’d done so. “Dragons are something you and I will probably never see eye to eye on.”

“Good. I don’t want to think of them the way you do.”

“Then we’re even.”

The next minute or so was spent in silence. Hiccup was still feeling off about the broken comment. It just didn’t sit well with him.

“Would you view someone who isn’t me who’s missing a limb as broken?”

Viggo answered quickly, like it was simple: “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re merely pieces to be played with and discarded.”

“And I’m not?”

Viggo pointed his fork at him. “You see, Hiccup, you’re quite intriguing. You’re a piece, but you’re smart enough to make your own moves, to push against me, which also makes you a player. You’re both at the same time. To be honest, I’ve never met another player before.”

Hiccup didn’t like this explanation. This man was utterly soulless. “Life isn’t Maces and Talons, Viggo. It’s more complicated than that.  _ People  _ aren’t  _ pieces _ .”

“They are.”

“But…” The words fell on Hiccup’s lips. He realized there was no point, no argument he could make that would sway Viggo. He’d held fast in this philosophy for a long time no doubt, probably longer than he’d been alive. It was no use.

The rest of dinner was spent in silence.

  
  


Hiccup was surprised that Viggo’s plans for after included dressing him rather than undressing him. He made him try on various outfits, all with pants of soft, supple leather and richly made and embroidered tunics. There were furs and vests, capes, cloaks, robes, tight shirts, loose ones, some that bared almost his entire chest, others that covered him to the neck. And with it were rings and necklaces, bracelets and pendants. Hiccup hated all of it no matter how splendid and even kingly he looked. What was worse was that everything fit him. It was clear Viggo had studied him well enough to guess at his measurements. And Thor, the amount of money he must have spent on all this! 

Hiccup leaned back against the table as he looked in the mirror, getting tired of just standing on his foot. He fingered the amulet that hung at his chest: a dragon curled around itself and biting its own tail. He didn’t really like it.

“So you bought all this on the off chance that you  _ might  _ capture me.”

Viggo came up beside him. “Not might. I intended to.” He put a finger under his chin, tipped his head towards him. “Don’t look so forlorn. It’s grand, don’t you think?”

“I’m not very materialistic.”

Viggo stroked fingers over his cheek. The touch tingled. “I’m sure I can make you be. You’ll see the wonders money can buy.” He then took his jaw, turned his head back towards the mirror. “Look at yourself. Admit you’re beautiful.”

Hiccup very much didn’t want to, especially in front of Viggo. He had a hard time looking at himself and liking what he saw, especially now when nothing he was wearing was suited for him. It was too much.

“I can’t.”

Viggo pet his hair. “No need to be humble.”

Hiccup shook his head. “You don’t get it. I  _ can’t _ .”

Viggo was silent for a time, continued petting his hair. “You were bullied, weren’t you?”

Hiccup didn’t like him trying to get into his personal life. He leaned one arm on the table to balance himself and turned on him.

“Look, are we done playing dress up? I’m tired and would like you to hurry up and fuck me so I can go to bed.”

Viggo took him by the waist. “Oh, eager for it?”

“No. I’d just rather we hurry up instead of dilly-dallying,” Hiccup replied in frustration. He’d been feeling frustrated ever since finishing dinner. He didn’t want to attribute it to the aphrodisiacs, to sexual frustration, but that could be part of it. 

“Good. Then take everything off except your pants,” Viggo ordered. He leaned forward, dragged his mouth across his face. “I like you in them.”

Hiccup wasn’t in the mood for his attempts at seduction. He just wanted it over with, just wanted a hard fuck and an orgasm.

Oh… he hadn’t meant to admit that… At least he hadn’t said anything out loud.

Hiccup somehow made himself willingly bare skin to Viggo. Then the man was pushing him so that he was sitting on the table with his legs spread for him to fit between them. His hands ran longingly over his thighs, and the lingering heat in Hiccup’s body sparked in excitement, started boiling. He clenched his hands into fists, desperately wanted to use them, but he didn’t want anyone to get hurt or killed for it.  _ Gods _ , this wasn’t fair. He couldn’t believe he just had to take his own rape. It was a test of wills like nothing he’d ever faced.

Something made him tilt his head back for Viggo when he leaned in and pressed his mouth to his neck, and that same something had a sigh escaping him. Tears stung in his eyes.

Viggo pressed a hand between his legs, massaged and squeezed through the leather, and Hiccup moaned, his thoughts beginning to leave his head with the rising of his lust. He was laid down onto his back, lips and teeth landing on his neck and his ears, hips grinding. His cock ached and throbbed and the friction felt excellent. He moaned loudly at the feeling of Viggo hard against him. His body wanted that.

A tongue pressed against a nipple and Hiccup shuddered, hands going to grab at Viggo’s strong shoulders. Precum wet the head of his cock. 

“ _ Ohhh _ ,  _ fuck me _ .” He couldn’t keep the words from coming out. It didn’t feel like he was the one who said it, though he heard it in his voice.

Viggo chuckled. “That’s the spirit, Hiccup.”

More attention to his nipples, more grinding. It wasn’t happening fast enough.

“ _ Please _ .”

“I’m not allowed to play first?”

Hiccup didn’t like that word. It made nerves tingle in his stomach along with the arousal. Viggo playing couldn’t mean anything good.

It was like something else entirely had taken command of his body. He bucked against him hard. “Want your cock.”

“It’s alright. You’ll get it. Just be good for me.”

_ Be good.  _ That’s what he’d been telling him. Being good meant letting Viggo do whatever he wanted to him even if he didn’t like it. It meant following orders.

Hiccup clutched at him with his thighs. “What do you want?”

  
  


Hiccup whimpered and whined through the ball gag as Viggo fucked his cock with the rod. It was long enough to hit his prostate, and about as thick as his little finger. It was jabbing him through with such a strange pleasure. He’d been so wet with precum he hadn’t even needed oil to get the rods inside him.

Viggo had stripped him of his pants and tied him to the chair for this, sitting directly across from him with their knees touching. He’d rolled up his sleeves and donned leather gloves, and Hiccup found himself really liking the touch of them.

“Are you going to cum soon?” His voice was a lustful rasp that made him moan even louder. He was so aroused he felt like he’d been drugged. And maybe he had. Did all the aphrodisiacs count? He hadn’t even been injected this time though. He nodded in response.

Viggo pumped him with the hand that wasn’t controlling the rod, moving it in tandem. 

“Good. I want you to.”

Hiccup wanted to very badly. He was close. Just a little more and- there. He moaned in ecstasy into the ball gag as Viggo removed the rod and pumped him through it. And fuck, there was something really hot about the way his own cum looked on the black leather of the glove, and the contrast between that and the head of his cock. It had never happened before, but Viggo managed to continue stroking him without hurting him, and in the next ten seconds he came  _ again _ . His hands tightened into fists, his chest heaving.

“Oh, your cock is being so good for me tonight,” Viggo cooed as if he was talking to a pet. “Such a good cock.” He kept stroking, and Hiccup didn’t feel much for the moment, softening in his hand, trying to catch his breath. Then the agony hit him, the sheer, horrifying  _ ache  _ of Viggo’s hand still on him. It felt like he was being stabbed through the head of his length all the way to his stomach. He jerked and screamed, pulled at his bonds. He’d briefly experimented with overstimulation once or twice, with curious, gentle touches of his own hand after orgasm, just to see what it was like, and the pain had been too much. That had merely been the brushing of fingers. This was  _ brutal _ . A tight grip, harsh strokes, twisting around the head of his cock, insistent tugging, the heat and added lubrication of his seed just making it all the worse. Hiccup yelled and shrieked, tears stinging and falling in trails of cooling lava down his cheeks. He tried closing his legs, but Viggo had secured his knees to the chair, along with his ankle and his stump. He choked on sobs, cried and screamed so readily it was embarrassing. He was sure everyone onboard the ship would be able to hear him, maybe even anyone on the docks. He was just grateful his father wouldn’t hear after all he’d already witnessed.

Another hand on him, playing with nipples that were over sensitive as well. Hiccup had never screamed so high-pitched in his life. He squirmed and struggled and tossed his head. Tears fell onto his shoulders and chest.

Viggo stopped, and Hiccup was left to hang his head back and whimper and cry. A gloved hand ran over his abdomen and he quite visibly shuddered, recovering from the pain and fearful for more.

“It’s a delight to see you endure,” Viggo said. “To be pushed past your limits and have to deal with it nonetheless.”

Hiccup wished he could talk. He knew Viggo had gagged him to silence his protests and attitude. He managed to find the strength to lift his head and glare.

“Such fire in your eyes,” Viggo commented. With a clean hand, he briefly stroked his chin. “I like the challenge you present me with.” 

Hands on his thighs, firm and good, arousal tingling like smoldering embers in a fire that just needed a poker to reignite it and make it flare again. The flames flickered weakly, working slowly towards a blaze. The things Viggo was doing to his body were unreal. To be filled with something that just made him crave sex… He absolutely hated it.

Hiccup moaned softly, tugged on his bonds again. He surely had marks from them by now.

“Do you want a bigger rod?” Viggo asked, trailing a finger up the inside of one thigh. Hiccup adamantly shook his head, eyes fearfully flicking to the rods laid out on the table. He saw the one that had been used last night. 

“Are you sure? I think your cock can take it.” Viggo was touching it again, but this time the pain was gone and it felt good. He pumped him to hardness, reached down with his other hand to play with his balls and make it happen faster. Hiccup made a sound into the gag. A finger rubbed back and forth over his slit, and then good gods, his little finger was sliding in. Hiccup bit into the gag, moaned loudly in pain and pleasure and indignation.

“Mm, there we go.” His voice was deep with satisfaction. Hiccup wondered if it was possible for him to orgasm just by torturing people. “How does that feel?”

Hiccup just shook his head again, hoping the noises he was making were indicative of a negative response. But still that gloved finger slid slowly in and out. His hands shook against the armrests of the chair.

He was relieved when Viggo removed his finger, but then he was taking another rod, a little wider than the finger he’d just used, longer than all the rest, and curved. Fear tore at Hiccup’s stomach even as lust and curiosity ate away at him.

Viggo gave him a thin smile. “Is that terror?”

Hiccup did his best to impart the words “fuck you” through his expression.

“No worries. I’ll go slow. No point in damaging you.” He took his cock, pressed the rod to it.

Hiccup couldn’t watch. He merely tracked its movements through feeling. The curve felt odd and the stretch burned and felt good all at the same time. He didn’t understand it. How could Viggo make him enjoy pain? It was horrible though, violating, and he wanted it out. Gods, how hard would it be for Viggo to just fuck him without mercy and get it over with?

Deeper, deeper. His stomach twisted. His limbs briefly shook. Harsh breaths through his nose. Drool slipping out around the gag and nothing he could do about it. Tears. Moans.

_ There. _

Hiccup cried out, jolted. There was pressure, and it got bad for a moment or two, but then  _ all the gods above. Shit. Oh my gods.  _ He screamed in that instant of pure ecstasy, convulsed a little. Pleasure like nothing he’d ever felt poured through his body, absolutely drenching him in it. For a second he thought he came, but nothing of the sort had happened. Buzzing followed. His head rolled; he was lightheaded. The intensity faded rather quickly, turned into a passive pleasure smaller than the assault of it he’d just faced. He didn’t understand what had just happened. He hadn’t even imagined that this could be done to his body. Each exhale was a whimper. He looked to Viggo with a question in his eyes.

“Your prostate,” Viggo told him. “Magical little thing, isn’t it? The rod is inside it if you must know.” To demonstrate, he gave it a little wiggle, and pleasure was bursting through him in an erosive torrent. It pulled a wail from him, though it only lasted as long as the movement. 

Hiccup had thought he’d understood desperation and frustration before. But this was different. This was primal. He  _ needed  _ to climax. He needed it like air. He wanted to beg, wanted to throw himself on his knees and sob for it. But he was stuck and without words.

_ Please, please, please _ . 

Viggo continued with the movements, sliding the rod a little, wiggling it, then stroking his cock, and the desire was chewing at the parts of his mind that separated him from an animal. He yanked at the ropes, yelling in pure pleasure and desperation. Please, just  _ please! _

His cock was suddenly left alone, and he hung his head and worked on catching his breath. There had been more of the medicinal herbs with his dinner, so his lungs luckily didn’t feel too bad from it, but his body was tingling almost to the point of pain. Was this… normal? Did the aphrodisiacs work to heighten sensation as well? Had Viggo given him something else maybe? No, he wasn’t experiencing anything that pointed to that. Just maddening lust… that made him want to bang his head against a wall.

Viggo sighed as he took ahold of his cock again. “Oh, you’re pulsing.” He sounded as if he himself was on the verge of an orgasm, voice actually weak. Hiccup wondered if he actually would get off to this, to tormenting him so completely. He whined as loud as he could through the gag.

Viggo began to pull out the rod, and Hiccup was shaking with anticipation. He could feel everything building up behind it.

He threw his head back and screamed when the climax hit him, eyes rolling back, body convulsing, toes curling. It almost reminded him of the muscular reaction to being struck by lightning, and he would know. Three and a half years had failed to wipe that particular experience from his memory. 

He began swearing to every god he knew before blacking out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I didn't forget about the other characters. There's just a lot going on with Hiccup at the moment.

Hiccup lay awake with Viggo pressed against him. His big arms held him tight, and he was using him as a cockwarmer, filling his body with him as if that would help either of them sleep. Well, who knew? It might help Viggo, who Hiccup guessed suffered from chronic insomnia. It sure as Hel didn’t help him.

His body was tingling, and the slightest touch on his skin sent white flashing through his brain and momentarily destroyed any thought. His cock was numb and useless. Viggo had only finished with him once he could stick a rod in him with him hardly feeling it. He’d never been so exhausted and aching in his life. He felt like he’d been doing hard physical labor for a week straight with no sleep, but he couldn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t sleep like this. And it was difficult with the sun still out. Viggo had pulled a curtain over the porthole, but light still leaked in and cast the room in a dim yellow glow. Hiccup despised this time of year.

Of course, after torturing his cock and making his voice go hoarse with screams, he’d fucked him with a hunger and brutality he hadn’t felt before. Hiccup was ashamed of how much he’d cried once Viggo got his cock in him. Any touch to his prostate had been too much after his cruel playing, and the heat that had stabbed through his core had been terrible and wonderful all at once. He’d lost consciousness in the middle of his thrusts, had woken not long after to the assault still ongoing and Viggo staring intently at his face as he leaned over him. That had happened a few times. It had all been absolutely unbearable, to the point that he’d uttered out a weak thank you when he’d finished in him. Viggo’s climax meant a temporary end to it until he wanted to do it all over again, and now Hiccup was just stuck with shame hacking away at him and cum sliding down between his thighs. Despair had an assortment of weapons to take to him too.

He had to get out.

Viggo was working to break him as fast as possible, and yes, this had damaged him for sure - he could feel a long crack right through the center of him - but it had also filled him with rage and determination. He couldn’t  _ do this  _ to him! He was a chief’s son! Never mind that Stoick had been deposed. That could be temporary. He was royalty being defiled down to his soul and he wouldn’t stand for it. No. He had to escape.

_ But the consequences. _

Viggo’s threats rang in his mind. After all he’d done, after his clear show of twisted malice and evil satisfaction, Hiccup knew he wasn’t lying. He would kill and torture other people to break him. He would hurt Toothless.

Unless of course Toothless wasn’t around. Hiccup knew where the dragon cells were. He could find something in Viggo’s room to pick the lock with and fly right out of there. Then he could go to the Dragon Riders, recruit allies, save his father and his tribe.

But what about his status? What about Viggo’s numbers? What about the safety of Berk? What about his dad?

He was getting too far ahead of himself. The only step right now was to escape. That was it. He could think after that.

But for now he had to wait. Wait and listen to Viggo’s breathing, feel the way he held him. It felt like an intimacy beyond sex, to be able to feel someone breathing and to wait for them to drift off into sleep with them flush against you. It was an intimacy he’d never wanted from this man, but one he currently had to rely on. If he guessed wrong about how deep into sleep he was, the whole thing would fall to pieces.

Time passed. Viggo shifted, settled, breathed a long breath over Hiccup’s neck, raising the hairs there. He could still be awake, or not very far into sleep. Too risky. But gods, did he really want to be away from him. He’d… never been held like this before. He’d wanted to hold Astrid like this… maybe without the cockwarming - it depended on where they were in the relationship, what both of them wanted. Want was the important part. Hiccup had no want for this.

It passed maybe two hours before Hiccup felt safe enough to move. In that time, Viggo had gone soft and slipped from his body, let go of him and rolled onto his back. His breathing was deep and even, and sometimes the occasional quiet snore would slip from him. Maybe…

_ No, I can’t do that. _

Hiccup looked at him. His face looked oddly peaceful in sleep, so  _ human.  _ He definitely couldn’t do it. There were all his crimes, but to kill someone while they slept was out of the question. Besides, he could wake up during it, fight him, punish him, kill undeserving people.

_ He can do that if he catches me escaping too. _

But he would have Toothless. He felt like there wasn’t much he could do without him, like he was useless on his own. This had happened to him without Toothless. Surely that only proved that. But when he had him everything would be fine.

_ It’s now or never. _

Hiccup knew that if he didn’t get up now, he’d continue to question himself till Viggo woke, and escape would never happen.

It was tough getting around him without touching him. He’d been placed on the side of the bed that was against the wall. A smart move really, but he’d left him unbound. Sure, his limbs shook with exhaustion and his body ached and the wound across his stomach stung, but this was the best opportunity to do this. He very carefully climbed over him, twisting his features at the sticky feeling of cum on him.

Hiccup was careful about lowering himself to the floor. He knew how to get around on one foot just fine, but it would be too loud. He was glad that he could still see. The clothes had been discarded in a corner of the room, probably left for a servant (or more likely a slave) to fold and put away at some later time. Hiccup crawled over, past the mirror on the way there, making sure not to look in it and see how pathetic he surely was. He yanked out the first shirt he saw, not caring about how expensive the wool must be, and thoroughly wiped himself clean with it. It hurt to move his body, but he grit his teeth and didn’t make a sound. Then he was digging through the clothes, getting dressed in a hurry, not caring what he put on. He made sure not to be loud, hoping the sounds of scuffling and fabric shifting wouldn’t wake Viggo. He was probably a light sleeper. He couldn’t hear anything though; his heart was pounding far too loud. He kept sneaking glances over. Viggo hadn’t moved at all.

_ But what if he’s tricking me? _

Hiccup realized that the thought was born out of paranoia and not logic. If Viggo had noticed that he’d left the bed, he would have said something, done something. He was still.

Once dressed, Hiccup just sat and looked around the room for a moment. He hadn’t really been studying it since being in there. He’d been too busy with… other things. It was large, most definitely the biggest on the ship. He did know it was through a door from a room that looked to be where Viggo conducted work and held formal meetings. These were living quarters, and though they were confined to one room, they were richly decorated and made, clearly for an affluent chief.

He started by looking for any types of keys. It was difficult. All of the chests were locked when he tried them, so they couldn’t possibly be in there. He looked through a dresser, a wardrobe, found nothing but Viggo’s clothes and his armor and some spare weaponry. Panic was taking him the longer he was away from the bed, and he kept looking over his shoulder. Viggo had rolled onto his side away from him, but there was no indication that he knew he was gone yet. Adrenaline pumped heat through his veins, but he was almost grateful for a heat that was different from arousal.

There was a very familiar board on top of the dresser. Curious, knowing Viggo was clever, Hiccup very carefully pulled himself up onto his foot and took a look at it. He overturned every piece. Nothing. Then he tried wiggling them apart, seeing if there were any loose sections, if they were hollow and could hide something inside. When he was getting frustrated and about to give up, he tried the Chief. The base of it came off, and into the palm of his hand slipped a small key. He wanted to whoop for joy, but he only allowed himself a silent smile. He carefully put the piece back together and set it back where he’d found it. Well… he hoped it was where he’d found it. Gods, this was terrifying. If he made one little mistake, it was all over. But not for him. For innocent people. And possibly pain for Toothless.

The key worked on one of the chests. There were pouches inside that clinked when he moved them, surely Viggo’s money. Another look over his shoulder. Nothing. Still sleeping.

Hiccup was careful sifting through the contents of the chest though. He needed something other than a key that only worked for one thing. He needed-

His prosthetic! There it was in the chest! He very slowly and gently moved the pouches of coins off of it, then pulled it out. He felt good when he attached it back on. He could walk now. He could get out of here.

Hm… But he still needed something to pick the lock to Toothless’ cell with.

After more rummaging around the room, he found something that could work, and it made him feel sick. Viggo’s… he didn’t know what to call them really. The man probably referred to them as toys, but Hiccup thought of them as torture instruments. That chest had been tucked away near the mirror, and he’d completely missed it. It didn’t need a key to be opened. There were all sorts of things in there he didn’t like: rope, an assortment of gags, blindfolds, a flail, a whip, jars of what could only have been different oils, phalluses of different shapes and sizes, some horrifyingly huge, and then the rods. Specifically two of them that had been inside him, the most narrow in the set. They were blunt, but if he would be able to get them into the lock, they might be able to work.

Feeling like they were burning his fingers, Hiccup took the rods, gently closed the chest, and stood to leave. That hurt quite a bit, pain sparking up through his back and between his legs, in his lower abdomen. He almost made a sound, but was able to clamp a hand over his mouth and keep it in. For a while he just stood there, not moving, terrified that the sound of his prosthetic on the floor would wake Viggo, but his rummaging hadn’t managed to do that. So, drawing in a deep breath, he left the room. 

  
  


Viggo didn’t move until Hiccup had left. He truly had fallen asleep, a rare occurrence for him, the process of slipping away into unconscious usually too tedious for him to the point that he would just get up and not bother sleeping. It had been much easier to fall asleep with Hiccup right by him, wrapped in his arms like he was meant to be.

He’d planned for him to try to escape. He very clearly wasn’t broken yet. Cracks were forming, but his will was still there, still strong. And now he knew where his dragon was, so he was feeling confident enough to try something like that.

That’s why Viggo had waited. He knew what could befall him for being found sneaking about, and he had to pay, had to learn. Any insubordination had to be punished, so he’d left it to seem like he was going to get away with it, to give him a false sense of hope and then crush it. The night had already been a great deal of fun, but the true entertainment had yet to begin.

  
  


“No, sh, Toothless!” Hiccup whispered harshly at his dragon’s excited warbling. Clearly he knew that Hiccup showing up alone with his prosthetic meant that he was going to be set free, and he was being rather noisy, happily nudging his nose against the bars. Hiccup couldn’t have him making noise though. That would let the guards, who he’d managed to slip by because of his litheness and agility, know that something was amiss.

Toothless settled down, gave him an apologetic look. Hiccup nodded to him to let him know it was okay, then pulled the rods from his pocket, inserted them into the lock to begin fiddling with the mechanisms. He looked around nervously, sweat trickling down the sides of his face. This could take some time, and he didn’t know how much he had, didn’t know if the guards came down to check this hallway. It looked like there was only one way out, which was the way he had come in by while they’d had their backs turned, so hopefully they were just in charge of guarding the door. Once he had Toothless, he could take them out quietly. He didn’t want to cause any alarm, didn’t want anyone to know he was gone until the morning. Whenever that would be. 

_ Stupid Midnight Sun. _

Hiccup got to work on the lock. He got so focused on the pushing and twisting that he didn’t notice something was wrong until an alarmed growl erupted from Toothless. He whipped around, dropping the rods with a couple of clangs, only to have a large hand clamp down on the shoulder that was still sore from Ryker’s hold.

“Mm, what have we here? The little whore trying to escape?” The man’s voice dripped with mockery.

“I’m not a- Let me go.” Hiccup made himself say it calmly, even as his insides turned to ice, and snowmelt of terror trickled into his limbs.

“Don’t think so.” 

The Hunter grabbed him in two hands, dragged him away from Toothless, who made a sound of distress and banged himself against the bars. Hiccup’s heart was in his throat, and he flailed and struggled. He was small compared to this man though, and so it was pointless, and the door was opened and he was roughly shoved out.

“I told you I saw someone go in there!” one man exclaimed. Hiccup was surrounded. There were five of them. He was breathing fast from terror. Surely they were going to take him to Viggo now, and he’d follow through on his threats.

He was pushed against a wall, and he whipped his head around, trying to assess the situation, to find a way out. He darted for the biggest space between two of the guards, but was instantly shoved back.

“You trying to free your monster?” one of the men asked. 

“He’s not a-”

“I was friends with two of the men he killed,” another one said, cutting him off, face drawn in anger. “Wanted to take it out on him but Viggo wouldn’t let me.”

“Yeah, but there are consequences for wandering around, whore.”

Hiccup didn’t like the sound of that. These men didn’t like him, seemed more than willing to dish out some punishment. But he didn’t know what to say in response, what to do. He was ashamed of how he was shaking. 

“D-don’t call me that.”

“But isn’t that what you are?” Oh gods, hands on him, running over his chest. He made to strike out, but then others grabbed his wrists. “We all heard you.”

A huff from one of them. In his fear, Hiccup was having trouble keeping track of them. 

“Can’t say I’m really into men, but you’re making me miss my wife.”

Hands under his shirt, rough, pinching his nipples hard and making him cry out.

“These seem sensitive enough though.”

“No! Stop! Let me go!” Hiccup knew what they were going to do to him now. Fuck, there were so many of them. How was he going to get though this? Terrified tears welled in his eyes, and he fought to not let them fall. He pulled and struggled, made to kick with his prosthetic, but then it was wrenched off of him.

A hand between his legs, squeezing. It had been hours since the session with Viggo, so he could again feel that, and it was good when he didn’t want it to be. He yelled and thrashed, but there were too many hands on him. He couldn’t keep track of who was touching him. A sob escaped him, tears tracking down cheeks that were now too familiar with the sensation. 

“Stop! Stop! Viggo! Take me to Viggo!”

“You think  _ he’s  _ going to give you any mercy?”

Hiccup really didn’t, but certainly he wouldn’t want this happening to him. He was possessive of him, probably didn’t want anyone else touching him. But he had made that comment about watching his men take him… Maybe he would let this happen even if he knew about it.

“Please! Take me to Viggo!”

He was lifted right off the floor as they all worked on tearing his clothes off of him. They didn’t seem to care how expensive they were, if they’d face any consequences for ruining them. They were ripped and torn, and with each bit of flesh that became bare, they would grab and pinch and squeeze. When he kept struggling, a fist hit him hard in the stomach, right where his wound was, and he was left choking and trying to remember how to breathe through the pain. He was fully naked now, legs pried wide open. Hands slapped his ass, tugged much too hard at his balls, and he was left shouting. Cruel laughter, a hand going around his neck, but still allowing him to breathe. 

“Please, please, take me to Viggo,” he begged. This couldn’t possibly be happening to him.

“Anyone want to shut him up?”

Hiccup was thrown down onto all fours, the impact jarring. He didn’t mean to sob when he felt what could only be a hard cock rub against his face, but he did, and that left his mouth open for the man to jab himself inside. He was terribly thick, and Hiccup choked on him, wanted to bite, but he knew he couldn’t. Spit landed on his back, his ass, hands pulled at his hair, fingers pinched and slapped. Humiliation tore open his gut and he wished to die. There was talking, and he was too panicked to make out anything but the insults. Whore, bitch, cockslut, brat. A hand rubbing over his perineum and his hole, fingers wet with spit digging inside, making him moan in pain around the length in his mouth that was working on shoving into his throat. He was choking and gagging, drooling and crying. There were cocks against him, being dragged over his face and his back. His lungs ached as he tried to find a breath that wasn’t weighed down by panic.

“You’re going to tear him that way.”

Everything stopped in an instant and Hiccup fell flat onto his stomach, coughing, trying to gather his breath. He knew he should have felt dread but there was just cool relief.

“Viggo!” one of the men exclaimed in surprise. There was a shuffling of armor and fabric, all probably hurriedly tucking themselves away. “Found him trying to free the Night Fury.”

“Of course you did.” Booted feet directly in Hiccup’s misted line of vision. He lifted his head to see Viggo towering over him, only in his pants. “We talked about this, didn’t we, Hiccup?”

“I…” He didn’t know what to say. What was Viggo going to do with him? “Please.” He wanted him to save him from these men. It was a silly hope, but he clung to it.

Viggo crouched down in front of him, took his chin in his hand. “I’m glad you didn’t take the scarlet tunic.” He’d clearly seen his ripped clothes. “I liked that one on you.”

There was tension as Viggo just stared at Hiccup. No one knew what he was going to do. Would the guards be punished for trying to take him, for not bringing him directly to Viggo? Hiccup hoped so.

“Allow me to prep him for you first,” Viggo said, and Hiccup’s chest constricted, eyes going wide. He was going to let them have him. Terror made everything in him weak. 

“Viggo, please-”

Viggo pressed a finger to Hiccup’s lips, silencing him, and had he not been about to be ripped apart, he would have bitten him. 

“Compromise with me, will you, Hiccup?” His finger left his lips. “Instead of ten of Berk’s people, you will witness the deaths of five. As long as you let these men have you. If not, ten will die. Pick your punishment.”

Hiccup looked at him for a long time. This was an impossible situation. But if he didn’t give himself up… 

An insult came out instead, a strange reaction to the fear he was feeling.

“Eat a rock, dickless.”

Viggo drew his hand back, looking utterly shocked by the words. He blinked, and for a while there was silence. Then he started laughing, slapped his thigh. 

“Oh, my dear, you know very well that part of my anatomy is still intact!” He gripped his jaw hard. “A funny little thing, you are. I hope breaking you doesn’t ruin your humor.” He shook his head. “You know, I think I’ll just choose for you.” He looked to the guards still around them. “Hold him down. On his back.”

“No!  _ No! _ ” Hands were on him, manhandling him into the position Viggo wanted him in. He didn’t want ten people to die, but he didn’t want this either. There had to be a way out of this. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I won’t try again! I won’t!”

“Oh, I know you won’t. Not after this.” Viggo knelt on the floor. He drew a satchel towards him that he must have set down before making his presence known. “You have to learn your lesson.”

“I get it! I get it! Please!” Tears gushed eagerly from Hiccup’s eyes.

“Open his legs.”

“ _ No-o-o! _ ”

The order was followed despite how Hiccup struggled. There were too many hands on him, too many things working against him. He was stuck, so stuck. 

There was no getting out of this.

“Remain still or this is going to hurt more than it already will.”

“Wh-what?” Hiccup flicked his eyes down, saw a now-familiar syringe. He expected it to go into his thigh, but then Viggo was taking his limp cock, lifting it to reveal the underside. His stomach was pulled into more knots. “No, no, no, no! Please!”

“Sh. It’ll be better with this,” Viggo told him. “It’ll make you want them.”

“I-I don’t-” He was unable to finish talking. The needle was inserted into a large vein on the underside of his length, making him jolt in pain and yell. The initial burn of the aphrodisiacs made the other times he’d experienced it seem mild in comparison. This was excruciating, and he twisted his head and screamed, tried to pull himself free, shut his legs. He was left panting as his cock hardened in Viggo’s hand, so much faster than it had ever happened before. Precum trickled earnestly from his slit and he felt like he was an instant away from orgasm. He moaned desperately, rocked his hips, but it didn’t happen. 

“Oh, please, please.” Hiccup didn’t know what he was begging for anymore. Desire was voraciously eating his thoughts.

“Lift his ass,” Viggo ordered. He let go of his cock, and there was the sound of a cork coming off of a jar. “He needs a fist before taking two of you. One of you is free to his mouth at the moment.”

Hiccup turned his head away, shouting and groaning in distress. Someone straddled his chest as oil was poured all along the head of his cock to his rim, making him absolutely rage with lust. Fingers prodded at the tender muscle, went inside, and a hand roughly shoved his head facing forward. The cry he gave allowed a cock past his lips. It felt like the same one as before, and he sobbed around it before being choked into silence. Hands grabbed at his balls, his cock. The touches were rough, but his body didn’t care, bucked into the mix of pain and pleasure. Someone had a hand around the back of his head to angle it up and allow his throat to be thrusted into. He couldn’t think of fighting anymore. There were only two things he cared about at the moment: enduring and getting off. It was the strangest experience to want release so desperately, but also not want the way it was going to be given to him. He’d rather smash his head against the floor. 

The only person being any semblance of gentle about using his body was Viggo. He was stretching him carefully and slowly, making almost all of his internal pain disappear with his strokes. Hiccup didn’t like the thrusting in his throat, found himself wanting it in his ass instead, wanting to be pounded to orgasm. There was a horror at those thoughts, and the part of him that was buried by drugs and hormones tried to rise up and fight, tell him that there was something horribly wrong with that. He could sense that wrongness, but he also couldn’t make the lust go away. There was no way he could fight these men and his body all at the same time.

Hiccup didn’t know how long it was till he had Viggo’s whole hand in him. It had his insides aching, but pulsing with pleasure all the same, and  _ gods  _ when he pressed against his prostate. He made a sound around the cock in his mouth. There was laughter, cruel words, jabs about his body, name-calling. It was all too much and he did his best to drown it out. 

Hiccup made muffled sounds of panic when he no longer felt Viggo’s touch. He was being relinquished to them now. His mouth was free and he was able to yell and protest, but they had full control over him, were able to position his body anyway they liked.

He was forced to sit on one of them, and he took him rather easily. Then his hips and waist were grabbed by two sets of hands as another man worked his way into him. That hurt, and when he shouted at it, his mouth was again full, his head held firmly in place. His wrists were yanked on so that a cock could be placed in each of his hands. He did his best to struggle, made sounds of discontent. Movement started and it was all rough and frantic and out of sync.

“Hiccup, if you hurt any of them, Toothless gets a broken rib.” A familiar hand on one of his own. “Curl your fingers. Yes, just like that. They’re pleasing you, so you might as well return it.” Viggo’s fingers ran through hair that wasn’t being pulled on. 

Hiccup didn’t know if he could agree with that, if there really was any pleasure from this. He couldn’t stand the feeling of so many men, couldn’t stand knowing strangers so intimately and them knowing him. He was glad that it seemed not a single one was as large as Viggo, but some came close. 

There were grunts and moans and curses, but Viggo’s voice stood out to him over that.

“You like them inside you,” he told him. “Nice and hot, exactly what you need. Rubbing at all the places you want to be touched. You like the stretch too, don’t you?”

Hiccup managed to let out a muffled moan in response. Pleasure burst into his body at Viggo’s words, as he made him focus on what was being done to him. Yes, that really was good. He was so wonderfully full, a length consistently pressing against his prostate.

“Move your hips with them. It shouldn’t be difficult with all that dragon riding.” His hand left his hair, trailed over his tear-stained face. He was still crying despite how good this was starting to feel. “I’ve seen how you move in the saddle.” Hiccup tried his best despite the odd rhythm, rocking his bottom half into each thrust. “Yes, good. You like that. You like the cock in your throat too. It feels good to be filled like that.”

Hiccup wanted to argue with him on that one, but very clearly couldn’t. But… maybe something he was saying about that was true…

Viggo pulled his hand away after a time, stopped speaking. There were just the harsh sounds of pleasure and the slap and slide of skin. A needy growl rose from Hiccup’s chest. He wanted to cum so badly, wondered if it was possible for it to happen without his cock being touched.

But then it  _ was _ being touched, being wrapped and pumped in a big hand. He jerked, did his best to try to fuck harder, enjoying that immensely. 

Viggo’s voice again. “When he cums in your throat, you have to swallow it.”

Had that much time passed already? The movements were growing more heated like he was on the verge of it. In a moment or two it happened, and he choked as the unwanted liquid was forced down his throat. He did his best to swallow it, and then his mouth was free, leaving him to moan. He ignored the taste on his tongue.

“Good whore. What a good whore.” That voice wasn’t Viggo’s. 

“Let me have his mouth now.”

Movement, a switching of positions. His right hand was left free as his mouth was again filled. He didn’t gag as much this time, was beginning to grow used to the invasion. And like Viggo had said, maybe there was something good about it.

Hiccup wasn’t far from climax now. He grunted, did his best to work his hips to please himself. 

“No,” Viggo said. That hand being tugged away from his cock, leaving him to make muffled whines. “I want to see him cum without that.”

Time passed. His right hand was filled again, and he clutched at the member like he was supposed to. Cum landed on his chest, trickled over his hand, making his stomach lurch. Not long after, someone came inside of him, and he was left to one cock in his ass for the time being. 

More cum, not from him. One of them thought it was funny to take it and smear it on his face, leaving him crying in humiliation. The position changed and he was pulled onto his back on top of someone new, his legs spread and lifted so another man could enter him. His hands were filled again and one crouched over his face and pounded into his throat. 

Pleasure pooled in his lower half, made everything tighten. His mouth was freed with his release so they could hear him scream. His insides rippled around the appendages inside of him, bursting heat through his core. His legs shook and his toes curled. 

“There you go, my dear. Good, right?”

Hiccup whimpered and moaned as they continued taking him, oversensitivity sparking through his insides. He was grateful that his cock was left ignored, the pain of that being touched after orgasm still fresh in his mind. This was too much though, and he opened his mouth to protest and complain when it was filled again. 

He was made to swallow more cum, and more landed on his body, in him. Eventually he was left with just one man, holding him down on his stomach and pounding him relentlessly. Fingers around his neck had his moans coming out hoarsely.

Then it was done, and he wanted to fight when he was handed over to Viggo, but instead he found himself clutching at him and crying into his chest. This had been an entirely new level of violation, and he felt like his soul was being split open. 

There were words exchanged between Viggo and the guards, but Hiccup didn’t care to hear them. He wanted a bath that would burn off his skin. He was trembling and couldn’t seem to stop. Disgust and humiliation were carving out his stomach. He felt sick.

He was taken back to Viggo’s room, put down on his knees in front of him. The man held his face to the bulge in his pants like he was holding him to his chest to comfort the crying, a soothing gesture in the absolute wrong place.

“No, no, no.”

“But that was such a lovely performance, sweetheart.” Viggo chuckled. “Can’t you have an adoring fan?”

With the last of his strength, Hiccup shoved at Viggo’s thighs and pushed himself away. He ended up on his stomach, trying to crawl, but then there was a weight on him, a hand pressed to his lower back.

Hiccup groaned as Viggo rubbed the head of his cock against his tortured hole. He didn’t want it, but there was that heat rising in him again. 

“You looked excellent taking so many men,” Viggo breathed into his ear. “And you clenched every time one left you like you wanted him back. Did you?”

“ _ No _ .”

Viggo sank into him with a grunt, and Hiccup shuddered as he rubbed against his prostate. 

“Did you want me instead?”

Hiccup tearfully nodded. He hated admitting it. The guards had been unknown to him, but Viggo he knew. There was something so oddly comforting about his touch now, about his mouth on his ear and his weight and his heat. He moaned as he ground his hips against him in a steady rhythm, stroking insides that pulsed with pain and pleasure all at once. His cock ached underneath him. 

Viggo fucked him hard, let his cum mingle with everyone else’s. Hiccup came with it as well without his cock ever being touched. Once it was done, he was shaking violently, and couldn’t seem to stop. Viggo left him on the floor where he began to grow cold, and then a wet cloth was washing over his body. His teeth chattered and exhaustion chewed on his bones. 

“It’s alright, Hiccup. You’ll be okay.”

He didn’t believe him in the slightest. He couldn’t stop shaking. Terrible whimpering noises came from his abused throat.

Once he was some semblance of clean, Viggo placed him in the bed under the furs and curled himself around him. The both of them were naked still, and heat from Viggo’s touch leaked into his chilled skin.

Hiccup didn’t know how long it was till his body went still. He found himself huddling into Viggo, enjoying his warmth, feeling oddly safe in his arms. Those men couldn’t get him now, not when he was holding him like this. Utterly spent, he fell easily into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves.

Viggo was careful about who he selected for the executions. Save for Snotlout’s father, the Dragon Riders’ parents had lived, which was a good thing. They would serve as leverage for whenever they would inevitably show up. He couldn’t kill the blacksmith, Gobber. It was too important of a trade. The man wouldn’t stop harassing any Dragon Hunter that dared show themselves to him, so he’d been locked up in Berk’s jail till Viggo had the time to deal with him. The youngest Rider, Gustav, wouldn’t do. The men had taken a liking to him and his high-pitched cries. Unlike with Hiccup, there was almost always blood, and he’d already broken.

Though, he was sure that Hiccup was on the way there, especially after what had happened the night before. 

“You got rough with him,” Ryker commented. He’d lifted the furs off of Hiccup without any attempt at being polite. He dropped them back down onto his sleeping form. It was probably sometime in the afternoon, and he had yet to stir. That was fine. Viggo had been working all morning. He knew what he wanted with Berk now.

“Oh, that wasn’t all me,” Viggo responded. Clearly Ryker had seen the bruises on him. “He tried escaping so I let some of the guards have him.”

Ryker huffed out a laugh as he came to sit at the table with him. “Bet he didn’t like that.”

“Hopefully not.” Viggo set down the papers he’d been looking over, reports on some of the trading that was taking place. “Have you gathered the people I asked you to?”

“Yeah. What are they for?” Ryker leaned an arm on the table.

“His punishment isn’t complete,” Viggo answered. “I want him truly broken.”

“And is that your only goal here?” Ryker looked annoyed. Viggo could tell that he thought him single-minded, obsessed. 

“No. I plan on having Stoick help me acclimate his people to my rule.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” Ryker asked. “What happens when you leave?”

“Don’t act like we haven’t conquered tribes before.”

“This one’s a little different.”

Viggo rolled his eyes. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Ryker didn’t look amused by his sarcasm. “What’s the plan with this one?”

“Can’t you be patient? I have to work Hiccup and Stoick some more, and the Dragon Riders haven’t even shown up yet.”

Ryker shook his head.

“What?”

He shrugged. “If you weren’t so focused on business and conquest, maybe you’d actually be married by now.”

“Oh, you’re criticizing me when you also have yet to take a wife?” Viggo redirected.

“I’m not chief,” Ryker responded. “You need to set your head on straight or else you’re not getting any heirs. You think our grandfather would have wanted the bloodline to end with you?”

Viggo ground his teeth, tapped fingers on the table. He looked over at Hiccup.

“Yes, well, I did want to marry Heather. She was smart enough.”

“That’s your problem. Always looking for someone to match your brains. They don’t need to be smart, Viggo. They just need to be pretty and pop out babies.”

“You really don’t think highly of women, do you?” Viggo commented.

“And you don’t think highly of anyone.” Ryker then paid attention to where Viggo had directed his gaze. “Ugh, save for him. He’s just a boy, Viggo. Get over him.”

Viggo wanted to say something, tell him he was more than that, but he realized it was more sentiment than he usually allowed himself, especially around Ryker. He turned his head back to give him a sharp look.

“Don’t you have things to be doing? Sharpening your axe for the executions maybe?”

“In an hour, right?” Ryker stood.

“Mm, about that time.”

“Don’t get too caught up playing with your toy.” With that, Ryker left, and Viggo pondered on his words for a while in silence. He wasn’t stupid all the time, was correct about him needing a wife, or at least heirs, but the pickings had been slim. Heather had been a good choice, but he doubted he would ever get the chance again.

That was a problem for another matter. He rose and went over to the bed, pulled the furs off of Hiccup. He’d hardly moved while sleeping, probably exhausted down to his bone. Viggo settled himself comfortably next to him, traced over bruises that had formed along his hips. There were surely some on his waist, but his bandages covered those, and he was sure he would find more on the front of his body had he flipped him over, but he was content with viewing him from behind. He felt over his smooth, strong ass, feeling a slight tingling in his cock. To have such a beauty in his bed…

His hands went to more intimate places, curiously checking on the nature of them after last night. He wasn’t at all surprised to see a bit of red, like the budding of a flower, protruding slightly from his hole. It caused a stirring of excitement in him. A reminder of what Hiccup was capable of taking. 

He wet his fingers before gently rubbing over it. He wanted to play a little before pushing it back in, so he had to be careful. He hoped this would wake him.

Some movement. A tiny whimper. Viggo continued his stroking and fondling, running his other hand over Hiccup’s back.

“It’s afternoon, my dear.” He pressed a kiss to his spine, and Hiccup arched, gave a little moan. “You have to wake up.”

“Tired,” Hiccup got out. His muscles clenched as he took in what Viggo was doing. “What are you…?”

Viggo rubbed over the protrusion, planting kisses down Hiccup’s back towards the curve of his ass. It felt so good to have his skin against his, his body reacting to his touch. 

“Making sure you’re okay after last night.” He nipped at his rear, rolling onto his stomach between Hiccup’s legs. That wasn’t totally a lie. That was what this had started as.

Hiccup moaned noisily as Viggo planted a kiss on the bud, roamed his tongue over it. 

“K-kinda hurts.” 

Viggo glanced up to see his arms reaching forward to grab at pillows, showing him strong shoulders. He couldn’t see his face, but he enjoyed his head of hair. He lapped delicately at him, eliciting more moans.

“But it’s good too, isn’t it?”

The way Hiccup almost pressed himself into him was answer enough. He knew he wouldn’t get a verbal answer from him. That would have to work.

Viggo worked at him for a time before placing two fingers on him and pushing the bud back inside. Hiccup gave a cry, then released a deep moan as he inserted his fingers down to the last joint. He was careful with fingering him, wanting to arouse and please rather than hurt. He wanted Hiccup to like this, be perfectly willing and content to take anything Viggo wanted to put in him.

He alternated between using his fingers and his mouth till Hiccup was a gasping mess. There. Now he’d be willing to do things for him.

“Want anything from me?” Viggo asked, climbing up his body. He pressed his mouth to his shoulder, went to nibble at the curve of his right ear.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Remember, you can use yourself to bargain.” Viggo wanted to plant the idea in his mind. Yesterday, Hiccup had asked about getting care for Stoick. Viggo was fully intending on doing it, now needing the deposed chief for his plans, but it would work better if he made Hiccup think he had some sway over him.

“D-don’t kill them.”

He ran his hands over his sides. “That’s set to happen soon. Pick something else.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Hiccup croaked out. Viggo could hear the sob lodged in his throat. “I-I’ll do anything.”

Viggo chuckled, purposefully did his best to make the sound as seductive as possible. “You’d take five more men?”

Hiccup’s breaths came harsh and panicked at the suggestion.

“I-I…”

“Sh, it’s alright. Pick something else.” Viggo dragged his tongue over his ear.

“Toothless.”

“You already saw him.”

“Again.”

“Mm, so needy. You know he heard last night. I doubt you could hear him banging on his cage with all the noise you were making.” Viggo wasn’t making that up. Above all the sounds of the gang rape had been the agonized moans of a dragon and the bangs on the bars. 

Hiccup tensed underneath him, shook, then released a broken wail. His crying came in earnest now. Viggo sighed. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned that. There would be no getting anything from him right at the moment. He pushed himself off of him, left Hiccup alone for a bit to release his emotions. He could either be malleable to manipulation while emotional, or resolute and stubborn, and right now he would be the latter. He set about readying a drink for him, something to relax him. He wouldn’t feed him at the moment, sure that the coming deaths would leave him physically sickened. He smiled a little bit thinking of the pain he was going to put him through. 

Eventually, Hiccup was sitting up and silently staring at the opposite wall. Viggo went to him, handed him the tankard, and Hiccup drank without even looking into it. Viggo caressed his back in circles.

“Have you thought of your request?” Viggo asked after a time.

“My father,” Hiccup answered. 

Viggo nodded as if this had only just occurred to him. “You want him to live, yes?”

Hiccup drew a deep breath. “I do.”

“And you’ll do anything to get that?”

Hiccup tightened his jaw. “What do you want?” He took a long swig of his drink, steeling himself.

“A few things.” Viggo crept a hand under the furs, felt over a firm thigh. He squeezed at the inside of his thigh near his cock, sure that the tease would arouse. “I’m sure by now you realize my tastes aren’t exactly tame.”

He watched Hiccup’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, considering it. Then he was hurriedly downing the rest of the drink and shoving the tankard at Viggo.

“Fine.”

“Good.” He stood to set the tankard down, coming back with a few things. Hiccup looked at them, then at him, as he set them on the bed.

“Why does this appeal to you?” he asked, hesitantly picking up a rod as Viggo moved the furs off of him. He must have recognized it as the same one he’d attempted to pick the lock with last night.

“I assure you, I sterilized them.” Viggo settled down beside him, their legs pressed together. Hiccup’s cock was half hard, and he was sure he could get it to full mast without even touching it. He leaned in, a hand going to his chest to gently stroke at a nipple, his mouth at his jaw. “And as for the appeal, there’s just something so enticing about it. Ironic, even. Something that’s used for penetrating being penetrated itself. It’s a real twist of the mind, don’t you think?”

Hiccup moaned softly, tilted his head to bare his neck to him. His nipple hardened under his fingers. “I-I’m assuming you want me to do it to myself?”

“Exactly.” Viggo felt at his other nipple. He was being gentle with him, wanting this experience to contrast sharply from the others in an attempt to confuse him and make him give in to him. No better way to do that than to confuse the senses.

“I… I can’t.”

“You haven’t even tried.” Viggo chanced a look down, saw his cock hard and lovely and wanting. He took Hiccup’s free hand, made him place it around his member. His hands were wide-set with long, slender fingers, and he liked the look of them on his length. There was a small bruise along the underside of him from the injection. 

Once placing his hand there, Viggo took the oil, and he dribbled some along the pink head, making Hiccup gasp. He took his hand again, forced him to stroke himself. 

“There you go. Just go slow.”

Viggo leaned in and wrapped his arms around Hiccup to caress his hips. The young man took a deep, shuddering breath, was looking at his cock with his brow furrowed and his lips pouted. For a moment, he didn’t do anything, but then he was tentatively bringing the rod to his slit and pushing it in. He gasped, breathing hard, but didn’t pull it out. Viggo greatly enjoyed the amount of restraint this was taking him. Afraid that he would go soft in his concentration, he ran his hands up and lightly pinched and tugged at his nipples.

“That’s it, Hiccup.” He was achingly hard from watching this, but was patient for when he’d take him into his mouth. Under orders of course. Hiccup wasn’t far enough along to be willing to do that on his own. “Feel it in you, under your fingers.” 

At his command, Hiccup was stroking just beneath the head of his cock, showing Viggo how far in it was, and he moaned at the sensation. 

“Go on,” Viggo urged, still playing with his nipples. “Deeper.”

Hiccup whined and moaned and panted as he worked on getting the rod in himself. About halfway through he stopped, gasping.

“I-I can’t.”

“You’ve taken much more. You know how good it feels when it gets deep.”

Hiccup shook his head. “Too much.”

Viggo placed his larger hands over his, carefully had him move the rod farther down, and Hiccup gave a deep sigh. After his silent direction, he went back to giving attention to his nipples, wondering if someday he could make him cum just from that. It would take training. 

Viggo couldn’t help moaning with Hiccup as the rod went deep, probably to his prostate. It looked beautiful in him, and his fingers, trembling slightly, looked so lovely carefully holding his own cock.

Viggo purred into his ear before nipping at it. “That’s my boy. Good. Can you fuck yourself with it for me?”

Hiccup groaned, but then nodded, and Viggo watched with rapt attention as he slowly pulled the rod almost all the way out and pushed it back in. This continued for a time until Viggo directed him to use a wider rod. It took kisses and encouragement, but eventually he was sounding his cock with that too, little moans leaking out of him as he focused. It was that look of focus that Viggo found so attractive. He sucked in his lower lip, puffed breaths through his nose, made sounds of pleasure behind a tight jaw. And then he would lose that little semblance of control, let his lips part and his moans escape. But still, his eyes remained steady on what he was doing, his fingers deft and careful. He had inventor’s hands, and of course he did with all the things he crafted. He figured he would be aroused watching his hands do something that wasn’t even sexual. Maybe he could get him to work on that tail for his dragon, keep trying though he’d said there was no solution. It would be beneficial for him in more ways than one.

Eventually, Viggo was taking the rod from Hiccup and pulling it free, watching precum dangle from the tip. He put it in his mouth, sucked on the end of it. He tasted sweet from the diet he’d put him on.

“Mm, excellent job.” He set the rod down, positioned himself so that he was sitting behind Hiccup with him between his legs. He wrapped an arm around his chest, reached over with his other hand to pump his cock. “Now, you’re going to let me overstimulate you. You can hold on to me, but you’re not allowed to fight.” That would be terribly fun. Viggo always had to tie up those he did this to. By leaving Hiccup unbound, he was forcing him to fight himself and his base instinct to stop whatever was causing him pain. He was sure the struggle would be beautiful. 

Hiccup moaned, tilted his head back against Viggo’s shoulder. This bared his throat to him, and he adored the vulnerability of it, tilted his head down to nip and kiss at the exposed flesh. He could feel Hiccup’s urge to protest, to ask him not to do this, but the words didn’t come out. Excellent. He was learning. 

He was a little louder than usual with Viggo kissing his throat. Good. It meant he’d found another sensitive spot. Viggo was well aware of where they were on the human body, but some people were more sensitive in certain places than others. 

Hiccup arched and stretched when he reached climax, grabbing onto the arm Viggo had around his chest. His grip was bruising, a way to brace himself through the pleasure and for the coming pain. Viggo didn’t care. He was too focused on the noises he was making and the way his cum dashed over his hand. As he stroked him through orgasm, he figured he should try the gloves again, recalling how readily Hiccup had reacted to that. Apparently his seemingly tame Dragon Rider did have a kink or two. He doubted he’d even known about it. 

Hiccup screamed when the pain hit him. He twisted at first, tried to get away, but then forced himself to remain still. His muscles shook with restraint, and Viggo moaned in satisfaction at it as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder. He wanted to compliment him, but he doubted he would hear over his own cries. His foot twitched and his hips occasionally bucked, but other than that, Hiccup remained as still as possible. His chest heaved and he clutched at him hard. Viggo relished it, worked over the head of his cock, enjoying how slick his cum had made it, the streaks of cream against pink, swollen flesh. He bit at his shoulder, groaned against him, his own cock throbbing. He almost felt like he was going to cum from this.

Viggo forced himself to stop, knowing that Hiccup wouldn’t be able to keep up the deal of not fighting for much longer. He went limp against him, whimpering, though he was obedient when Viggo scooped cum into his mouth, sucked it off his fingers. Then Viggo was having some for himself. Yes, he did quite like the taste. Maybe sometime he could tie Hiccup down and suck him dry while he screamed his voice out.

“Excellent, my love.” Viggo stroked over his chest. “Just excellent. Now, I think we still have some time. Will you do more for me? For your father, of course.”

“Will it hurt?” Hiccup asked breathlessly. 

“Perhaps. How is your throat doing?”

A pause. “Fuck you.” There was no real conviction in it. 

“You’ll be busy doing that yourself.” 

Hiccup didn’t comment, and he was good about getting down in front of Viggo and taking his hard length in one hand once he’d relievingly pulled it from his pants. Viggo buried a hand in Hiccup’s soft hair. Despite this having happened before, he was still a little stunned by it. Hiccup Haddock the Third, naked before him with his pouty lips sucking at the head of his cock. He didn’t dream much due to the overall lack of sleep, but this indeed felt like a dream.

“ _ Yes _ , Hiccup.” He massaged his scalp, sighed at the feeling of his lips dragging over him, and then his tongue. He was rather good with his mouth for a beginner, unless it came to deepthroating, but that was alright. That usually took practice. 

Viggo let himself relax as Hiccup sucked his cock. It was difficult for him to truly rest and feel at ease, but he did at the moment, even with all the work he had to carry out. Right now wasn’t the time for it though. 

He pressed on Hiccup’s head, made him take him deeper, and he saw Hiccup clench his thumb to ward off gagging. It worked, and Viggo was able to smoothly enter his throat. It also seemed that having his throat fucked by multiple people had helped to quell the reflex.

“Oh, you’re a beauty,” Viggo breathed. He took Hiccup’s hair and pulled his head up, leaving him gasping through swollen lips. “Straddle me and let me finger you.”

Hiccup closed his eyes, tightened his lips. Viggo waited for a protest, but there was none. He climbed into his lap, half hard cock rubbing against his own, and Viggo took him by the ass, other hand reaching for where he’d left the oil. Once two of his fingers were coated, he brought them to Hiccup’s rim, dipped them inside. Hiccup moaned, actually rocked on him a little before seeming to realize what he was doing and stopping. His hands gripped at his shoulders. Pleased, Viggo kissed him on his pretty mouth, slowly fucked him on his fingers. He was happy with the way Hiccup grew erect against him, and Viggo took the both of them in one hand, stroked steadily in time with his fingers. Hiccup moved against him in a sensual rhythm. It was doubtful that he was doing it on purpose, mind probably overtaken by lust.

Viggo pulled away, listened to Hiccup moan into open air before speaking. 

“Will you ride me?”

Hiccup’s face was beautiful, contorted in pleasure and an inner struggle and anguish. For a moment it looked like he was going to lose his resolve, but then his features tightened. He nodded.

Hiccup’s breaths were heavy as he adjusted himself on Viggo, who took his ass with two hands to direct him. He gave a wonderful cry as the head pushed in, and Viggo sighed, enjoying the sensation of him hot around him. Hiccup didn’t move, so Viggo steadily pushed him down onto him. He was at least compliant in that, head back with his mouth open in rapture. Viggo groaned at the feel and the sight of him, rubbed his hands over his back and his hips. He lavished his collarbone and his shoulders with adoring kisses.

“Ride me, Hiccup.” His voice was husky. It was good to have him on his cock, but he wanted movement, wanted to see and feel this stunning body work for both their benefits. He rubbed his nose along his throat. “You like me in there, don’t you? Nice and hot and deep.”

Hiccup panted, shook his head slightly, but he began to move, bouncing and rocking a little.

“You do,” Viggo told him. He needed him convinced, needed him wanting him. It was easier with the aphrodisiacs, and there had been some in the drink, but he’d wanted to try without a large amount. Hopefully the steady stream of them he was putting into him would help. “You need it.”

“No.”

“You were eager for it yesterday. Desperate for me to fuck you.”

Hiccup’s movements became stronger, faster. His eyes were tightly squeezed shut.

“Shut up.”

Viggo smirked. “Only if you make me.”

Hiccup turned his head away, teeth clenched. Then he turned back to Viggo, practically smashed his mouth into his, a frustrated growl in his throat. Viggo moaned, clutched hard at his ass, rocked his hips into him, terribly aroused by Hiccup’s actions. Hiccup kissed angrily, dug nails into Viggo’s scalp and the back of his neck. His hip movements could be described as angry as well, absolutely furious. He’d wrapped Viggo in a bitter, raging heat, and it was stunning. Viggo liked having it this way. Passion could be a show of hate, and that’s exactly what this was.

The way he moved was incredible. Viggo had never had his cock ridden by someone with his exact muscle structure before, so centered around his thighs and lower abdomen and hips. His first time riding his cock and he was perfect at it. Viggo wanted to taunt him about that, but their lips were still together in a bruising rhythm. There was a skimming of teeth. He could tell Hiccup was desperate to bite him and draw blood, but was holding back for fear of consequences. Viggo wouldn’t have minded if he did bite, despite how unbecoming it would look for him in public. 

Viggo growled, wrapped fingers in Hiccup’s hair and tugged hard, yanking his head back so he could speak. He cried out at the harsh movement, then was left panting and moaning. 

“I thought you’d never ridden cock before,” Viggo said before nipping at his throat, which was already marked up from his mouth. “Or do you just fuck yourself on toys like a slut?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Nothing wrong with self-pleasure, love.”

Hiccup made a sound that was a mix between a growl and a yell, a sound of utter frustration and anger, and fucked himself on Viggo harder. Viggo could see the conflict in him, the determination to finish this because he thought it was the only way to get his father help, the struggle between hating it and the desire that ran through his blood. An orgasm would solve those issues, and so he was trying for one. He was digging nails into Viggo’s shoulders, surely would have left indents had he not been clothed.

“That’s it, Hiccup,” Viggo encouraged, greatly enjoying this. The movement on his cock was so good. “That’s it.”

Hiccup was harsh and loud as he fucked him, each movement filled with blissful hate and desperation. His body still needed a lot of work on climaxing from just prostate stimulation, so Viggo came first, clutching hard at his ass and moaning. Hiccup stilled atop him, breathless, sweating. Viggo relished in the feeling of his seed in him. He didn’t let Hiccup move off of him yet, brought one hand around to clutch at his length and stroke him.

“Y-you won’t hurt me this time?” Hiccup asked, clearly frightened of being subjected to more overstimulation. 

“No,” Viggo responded honestly. “This is your reward. You did a very good job.”

To that, Hiccup said nothing. He pressed his hands against Viggo’s chest, turned his head away. He came quickly by Viggo’s hand, and though he was starting to go soft, it still felt good to have his body clamping around him like it couldn’t get enough.

They stayed like that for a time, and Viggo realized he was probably going to have to forcibly move Hiccup. It was time and they both knew that. It filled Viggo with excitement and cruel satisfaction, but Hiccup’s face was starting to go pale, and tears leaked from his closed eyes.

He put his clean hand to his face. “Hiccup, it’s time.”

  
  


Hiccup had been given his prosthetic back, forced to walk to where the executions would be held. He felt it ironic to give him some level of dignity back for this. Not that there was much dignity in being only partially clothed with his hands bound in front of him, and limping along behind Viggo, who held the chain that was fastened to a leather collar around his neck. Everything in him wanted this to stop, wanted him to not take the next step forward, but he had no choice, so he did.

And everything hurt. His body was sore from the abuses it had suffered the night before, and his wound hurt terribly from the way he’d fucked Viggo. Blood had gone through his bandages, his movements having torn it.

He received stares along the way, and he expected them to be judgmental, hateful, but they were just pitying. Oh how they were going to hate him for realizing this was his fault. He’d never hated himself more. He shouldn’t have tried escaping. He’d known the consequences and had stupidly overestimated himself, so he’d tried anyway. This was on him, and it felt like it dirtied his very being. 

They made it to Berk’s main square outside the Mead Hall. Ryker stood with a huge axe beside stones set up as a chopping block. Hiccup made himself look to the line of people being guarded by Dragon Hunters, and his stomach dropped out.

“Y-you told me it wouldn’t be ten,” he said to Viggo, mouth going dry.

“And it won’t be.” Viggo gave him one of those smirks that always had chills pattering up his spine. “You get to choose which five, Hiccup.”

Hiccup’s jaw dropped. Tears rushed into his vision as he looked at the people, then back at Viggo. Gods, he knew all of them. Of course he did. He was meant to rule them one day, and he’d lived and worked beside them his whole life. He’d been meant to protect them, and now here he was.

“I-I-I can’t.” He shook his head furiously, refusing to look at the people he’d condemned to die. He’d thought he was hurting already, but now his very soul resonated with agony. 

Viggo took him roughly by the jaw, forced him to look at those ten people. He made himself meet their eyes. A different look on each person: defiance, resignation, despair, terror, anger. If it was anger at him, it was well-directed. He deserved every last bit of fury the gods could give.

“Choose, Hiccup. Or all ten will meet the axe.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” He turned to Viggo, wanted to clutch at something, but he was in his armor. “Please, please! I’ll do anything!  _ Anything!  _ Just let them go!” He meant it. Truly. He didn’t care if his body was passed around like a piece of meat, if he was torn to shreds and tortured just for Viggo’s own sick pleasure. Absolutely anything would be better than this. 

Viggo met his eyes, completely passive, completely uncaring. He said nothing.

“ _ Ple-ea-ease! Please! _ ” Hiccup wanted to hit him, but he was going weak, shaking. He pressed his hands to his breastplate, fell to his knees. He no longer cared about dignity, about anything but saving these people. He clutched at the hem of Viggo’s tunic, pleading, begging. “Anything! I’ll do anything! Let them  _ go! _ ”

Viggo looked down at him, lips upturned in amusement. “Anything?”

“Yes, yes! Just please don’t kill them!  _ Please! _ ”

“Then name it,” Viggo ordered. “Say what you’ll give in exchange.”

“M-myself. I-I’ll suck your cock and-”

“Louder.”

Hiccup knew he was purposefully humiliating him at this point, but if it saved these people, he didn’t care. 

“I’ll suck your cock a-and let you cum in my mouth,” Hiccup got out, trembling violently now, sobs working their way up his aching throat, intent on ruining his ability to speak, but that was all he had at the moment, but he kept on. “I’ll ride you. I-I’ll d-do it in front of the whole village, if y-you want. In front of- in front of your men. And you can do- can do whatever y-you want to me. P-put on a damn show if you please. You can fuck me a-as much as you want. I’ll give myself out. I’ll let a-anyone take me. I swear! Anything!”

Viggo crouched down to be more level with him, stroked his chin. “And what if I were to turn you into a breeding hole for dragons for my own amusement?”

Horror clutched at Hiccup with two hands. Given his line of work and way of life, he’d of course seen dragons mate before. Most were not very gentle about it, and he was sure their members would rip him right in half, but that still didn’t deter him. Not at all. 

“Yes, yes, anything. I swear to the gods.” 

Viggo ran his hand into his hair. Hope flickered through Hiccup’s despair. Maybe he was getting through to him. 

“Although all of that does sound delightful, I  _ want  _ you to  _ choose _ .” He shoved him and wrenched on his hair, forcing him to face the people whose blood would be on his hands. He stood, leaving Hiccup there beneath him with this impossible choice. 

Then one of the men spoke, a farmer named Magnus.

“Hiccup, it’s alright.” He met him in the eye, nodded firmly. “You’re going to be our chief one day. We’d all die for you.”

“That’s not how it works!” Hiccup shouted. “I’m supposed to protect you!” He whipped around, began grappling with Viggo’s belt because it was all he could do. “Viggo! Please!”

Viggo kicked him in the ribs, sent him sprawling onto his stomach. Pain kept him down, and then so did Viggo’s foot on his head.

“Don’t test my patience. Choose five or they all die.”

Hiccup looked to Ryker, who just hefted the axe and gave him a cruel smile. Then he was looking at his people again, people he’d been supposed to protect, but who were going to die because of him. A crowd had gathered to witness his torment. They were talking, angry, getting louder, and it looked like a riot would break out, but there were armed Hunters in a ring around the square to keep them at bay. Hiccup didn’t want a riot. That would mean more would get hurt and killed. There was only one way to solve this, one way to prevent more deaths.

“You know their names?” Hiccup asked Viggo.

“I do.”

Hiccup steeled himself.

“M-Magnus.” He kept looking. How was he even supposed to choose? Maybe the ones with the most resigned looks on their faces. “Sharkbraid.” She was a woman who had seen many a battle, and she gave him a reassuring nod when he said her name. “Hawkbreath.” A man whose logging helped keep the Great Hall warm. “Ash.” His face was white like his namesake, but he nodded to Hiccup as well, stood a little straighter. “Hogtail.” She actually smiled at him. It was thin and scared, but it made him go completely blind with tears.

Ryker shook his head. “You Berkians and your fucked up names.” He gestured to the Hunters to bring them forward and…

And it wasn’t the people Hiccup had chosen. Those five were shoved back and out of the way, the others forced towards the chopping block, the ones he purposefully hadn’t picked because they looked too terror-stricken and despairing.

“No!  _ No! _ ”

Viggo took his foot off of Hiccup’s head, and Hiccup threw himself forward, the collar pulling at his neck. There had to be something he could do, some way he could stop this!

The first person was shoved down onto the block. Ryker raised his axe.

“ _ No-o-o! _ ”

It went down with a sickening  _ thunk _ . Blood sprayed, dashed across Hiccup’s face and his front. The woman’s head fell, rolled away, and Hiccup bellowed with every bit of strength he could muster.

“Stop, stop,  _ stop! _ ” 

It didn’t stop. The next head bumped into Hiccup’s thigh, and he vomited and choked and cried. Once he’d gained a measure of control over his stomach he was screaming again, pain sawing him in half. The blood that splattered all over the front of him was on his hands, and he didn’t know how he was going to live with it.

“ _ NO! _ ”


	9. Chapter 9

Stoick sat and waited for his blood to dry. Those screams from outside had been Hiccup’s, and he’d thought he’d known a truly horrific sound before this, but he’d been proven wrong. He only knew he was still alive because Viggo wanted him that way, but it had sounded like he was being torn to pieces. It let him know that he was still on Berk though, that Viggo hadn’t taken him away, and he held out hope that he’d be able to see him again.

The screams stopped and time passed - Stoick didn’t know how long. It seemed he’d fallen into a timeless haze amidst the hunger and thirst. Hunger was fine, but dehydration was going to kill him first. He expected to be left there to rot and be forgotten, but then the door opened. He lifted his head, would have stood but was too weak, had used the last of his strength to again try to break free when he’d heard Hiccup’s screams.

Viggo entered, leading Hiccup by a chain that was attached to a collar around his neck. Stoick thought he’d used the last of his strength, but he somehow managed to stagger to his feet when he saw him, splattered from head-to-toe in fresh blood. Tears made streaks through it on his face, and Stoick tried to catch his gaze, but his head was down.

“Relax. It’s not his.” Viggo walked farther in, and Hiccup refused to move, so he yanked on the chain, and he easily came forward. His hands were bound in front of him.

Stoick wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that. He was glad that Hiccup wasn’t physically hurt, but then if it wasn’t his, whose was it? What had been with the screaming?

Stoick narrowed his eyes at him. “Whose?”

Viggo actually unhooked the chain from the collar, then began untying the ropes. Hiccup didn’t move and his shoulders were hunched. Whatever fire and defiance that had been in him was now gone. He just stood by Viggo, even unbound, demure and docile and quiet.

“Hiccup can tell you,” Viggo answered. “Some people should be by later to give you food and water. Your son acquired it for you.”

Stoick tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. Shock and confusion were taking turns pummeling at him. Why did Hiccup look so… broken? Whose blood was on him? What had he done to get him care? All questions he could ask when Viggo was gone, but he wanted to know all of it  _ now.  _ What had he  _ done  _ to him?

“I thought you wanted me dead.”

“Yes, well, minds change.” Viggo gave Hiccup’s collar a tug, as if checking that it was still tight enough. Hiccup didn’t even flinch. “I’ll be back later to talk things over.” He leaned down to Hiccup, kissed his cheek though it was covered in blood, painting his lips red and smearing his beard with it. “Keep that on,” he said about the collar, and then he left.

Stoick didn’t know what to expect after Viggo left, but Hiccup just stood there.

“Hiccup? What… what did he…?”

Hiccup finally looked at him. His eyes were despairing, and they somehow looked a century older despite him having seen him yesterday. There was a sorrow in them so deep that Stoick almost couldn’t comprehend it. 

He crashed down onto his knees like his legs could no longer hold him. He shook his head, eyes brimming with tears. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His voice was raspy, hoarse from screaming. “Dad, I’m so sorry.”

Dread was eating a hole through Stoick’s stomach. He wanted desperately to go to him, to bridge the gap and hold him despite the blood on him. What had happened?!

“No, sh, Hiccup. Whatever he did isn’t your fault.”

Hiccup shook his head again. He raised his hands as if to press them to his face, but stopped. They had blood on them too. 

“I’m sorry. So sorry.”

What on earth was he apologizing for? Whose blood was on him? 

“Hiccup, please talk to me.” Stoick kept his voice soft. It felt like he was being stabbed in the chest to see his son like this. “What’d he do?”

“M-my fault! It’s my fault!” Hiccup was staring through tears at his trembling, bloodied hands. “H-he had them- had them killed!”

Stoick was trying his best to stay calm, to not be frantic, but everything about this filled him with dread and horror. He wanted a straight answer from Hiccup, but he didn’t want him crying like this either.

“Who?”

“N-not the o-ones I p-p-picked.” Hiccup looked like he wanted to say more, his mouth moving, but he was hyperventilating. Stoick wished he would just come over to him so he could hold him, damn all the blood.

He also wanted to question him further, but he didn’t want him to hurt himself, and he surely was at this point with how he was breathing. 

“Sh, sh, take a deep breath. It’s over now. It’s over.” Stoick felt like that was the only comforting thing that he had to say. This collection of horrors wasn’t over, but whatever had happened in the courtyard, executions if Stoick was piecing it together correctly, was. But that meant more of his people dead. How many?

It was a long while before Hiccup was able to speak again. Even from a few feet away, Stoick could hear a wheeze in his lungs. He didn’t say anything about what happened though.

“I-I should go clean up.”

Stoick simply nodded. They’d both feel better if Hiccup wasn’t covered in blood.

Hiccup was weak and shaking, so he went up the stairs on all fours. Stoick sat, waiting. How many people had Viggo had killed in front of Hiccup? And why? 

A long time passed. There was scuffling, movement, splashes of water, and then eventually, Hiccup returned. He was dressed in fresh clothes, the blood gone, and his hair wet as if he’d tried scrubbing it out in the washbasin. He knew Hiccup would prefer a full bath, but that would mean leaving the house. He wasn’t chained, but maybe there were guards outside. Stoick said nothing at seeing that he’d followed Viggo’s order to keep the collar on. Following such a degrading order wasn’t like him. But neither was the way he slouched like he was being pressed upon by weights when he pulled a chair up close in front of Stoick and sat. He hung his arms down and just stared at the floor. Stoick waited. He was curious but knew he couldn’t press him.

After a time in silence, Hiccup was moving again, struggling to get Stoick’s big chair over to him. Stoick would have helped him when he came close, but his wrists were hurting much too badly for him to really use his arms, especially with the chains still there. He was grateful to be seated in a chair though,  _ his  _ chair, old, familiar wood. Hiccup resumed his spot across from him and again there was silence. 

It was broken, but not by Hiccup. The door was opened quite suddenly, and Stoick looked up wearily as two Dragon Hunters entered. They were carrying food and water, and Stoick didn’t want to be relieved because Hiccup must have done something awful to get it for him, but he was. Hiccup tensed as they went around him. His fingers clutched at the underside of the chair and his jaw tightened.

Stoick did his best to hold the tray and the big tankard of water when it was handed to him, his fingers sparking through with agony from his wrists. They were just masses of pain.

One of the Hunters shoved Hiccup in the shoulder. “Heard about last night, whore. You gonna give us any?” He made to grab him, but the other Hunter slapped his hand away.

“Hey, Viggo said not to touch him.”

Anger flared through Stoick’s blood.

“Yeah, but Viggo’s not here.”

“I’m pretty sure he’d notice if his cocksleeve is looser than usual.”

“Then we’ll take turns.”

“If you touch him, you die!” Stoick shouted. He knew he wasn’t imposing in his current state, but he couldn’t just sit by while they discussed Hiccup like this. He was starving, but it made him physically ill. 

The men looked at him, and the one who had started the harassment snorted. “Yeah, alright.” He grabbed Hiccup by the collar and yanked him up to stand. Hiccup scrabbled at him, but then his other hand was shooting between his legs, squeezing. Hiccup gasped and froze. 

“Hey, just let go of him.” That was the other Hunter. Stoick doubted it was out of compassion. He was just interested in following orders. Stoick wanted to  _ do  _ something, but he was too weak. It quickly crossed his mind to just throw water on the Hunter, but then he’d lose what Hiccup had worked to get him, put it to waste. No, there was nothing.

The one holding Hiccup laughed. “Just getting a quick feel.” He was fondling him, and Hiccup whimpered, closed his eyes. “Heard our chief’s quite the freak when it comes to sex. You enjoying that? You a little freak too?”

Then he was dropping Hiccup back into his chair, laughing. He cuffed him over the head, and then they were leaving. Stoick was shaking with rage that he didn’t have the energy to use. Hiccup pulled his foot and his prosthetic up onto the chair to bend his knees, wrapped his arms around his legs, pressing his head to his knees. He didn’t say anything. His face had been red with humiliation before he’d obscured it.

“What was he talking about?”

“You should eat,” Hiccup said quietly. “Please.”

Stoick looked down at the tray. His stomach rumbled.

“What did you do to get this for me?”

“What he wanted.” Hiccup lifted his head, pressed the side of his face against his knees so that he still wasn’t looking at him. “Please eat.”

There was so much Stoick wasn’t being made aware of. Clearly many a thing had happened while Hiccup had been taken from him, and he was desperate to know, angry, but he wouldn’t push. 

The first touch of water on his lips was a gift from the gods. He took a long drink, paused to catch his breath and sigh, then continued. He’d been parched, sure he was going to die of thirst. Tears of gratitude for Hiccup welled in his eyes, but he blinked them away. Then he was eating. He wanted to be quick, fill himself as fast as he could, but he knew that would just make him sick, so he ate slowly. He didn’t talk until he’d eaten at least a quarter of the meat.

“Tell me what happened outside.”

Hiccup put his legs down, looked down at his hands. His expression was so forlorn, and Stoick expected him to start crying again, but it seemed he had no tears left.

“I was stupid, dad. So, so stupid.”

Stoick wanted to tell him not to call himself that, but Hiccup continued while he was still chewing. 

“I overestimated myself. I tried escaping. I-I thought I could do it.” He shook his head bitterly. “He found me. He… made me choose who… And I begged him not to. Ryker had an axe and-” He stopped, took in a shuddering breath. There was still a slight wheeze in his chest, and he grimaced. 

“How many?” Stoick asked. He was dreading knowing, but he had to.

Hiccup put his head in his hands.

“Five.”

“Who?”

Hiccup gave him their names, and Stoick’s heart broke with each one. These were people he  _ knew _ , people he’d lived and worked and fought beside. All gone because of Viggo’s eager cruelty. And he’d pinned the blame on Hiccup, had used it as punishment and made it seem like his fault. Gods, it all  _ hurt _ . Odin  _ dammit. _

“It’s my fault.”

“Another man’s actions are no fault of yours,” Stoick insisted.

“It  _ is _ .”

Stoick didn’t know how to convince him otherwise. Now he understood why Hiccup had followed Viggo’s order to keep the collar on, why he hadn’t fought those men, why he wasn’t currently working on a plan of escape. He was… broken. Two days. It had only taken Viggo two days to ruin his son so thoroughly. Thoughts of how he wanted to kill him rushed through his head, but instead of anger he just felt tired. So utterly exhausted. And Hiccup looked it. 

Once he’d finished his food and Hiccup had set down the empty vessels for him, Stoick gently told him to come to him, and he did, curled up in his lap the way he’d used to when he was a child, leaning into his chest. Despite how much it hurt, Stoick managed to wrap his arms around him. He wanted to cry. It felt so good to hold Hiccup after the atrocities of the past couple of days. It was reassuring, comforting. Despite everything, they were still together.

“I’ve got you, Hiccup. I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t long before Hiccup fell soundly into sleep in his arms, and Stoick was content to hold him. He didn’t know how long he would get to.

  
  


Stoick was glad that it was Gothi that would be treating his wrists. He was  _ not _ glad that Viggo was accompanying her. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold Hiccup during this, but he clutched him to him tighter when he saw the man. He never wanted to relinquish him to him, to anyone. Hiccup was still sleeping, completely unaware of what was taking place.

Viggo didn’t say anything as he took out a key and unchained Stoick. Stoick wanted to attack him the instant his wrists came free, but he couldn’t. He was too weak from pain and exhaustion, and all he could do was revel in the lifted weight of the chains. He didn’t look down at his wrists, sure that they were awful to behold.

Then Viggo reached out for Hiccup. Stoick drew back, held him to his chest.

“Don’t touch him!”

“Don’t start a commotion, Stoick. Certainly you don’t want to wake him.”

He didn’t, but he didn’t want to hand him off to Viggo either. That didn’t matter. His hands were going underneath him and taking him from him, and he was in too much physical pain to do anything about it.

“He needs his bed,” Stoick said, heart racing with fear for his son.

Viggo sat down across from Stoick, settled Hiccup’s sleeping form across his lap. He hadn’t stirred at all, surely absolutely exhausted and in desperate need of good sleep. 

“He’ll get there,” Viggo told him. 

Gothi went to Stoick’s side, set down her things, and he held out his arm for her. He wanted to speak with her - she also carried around a journal to write in - but nothing they shared would be secret. Well, not unless she did her symbol drawings. She had to work first though.

“What do you want me alive for?” Stoick asked as Gothi inspected his right wrist. She took his arm and twisted it to see all the way around.

“A rebellious people won’t be good for ruling,” Viggo answered. He pressed a hand to Hiccup’s chest, trailed it over him, and the touch made Stoick bristle. “Transitioning to my rule would be an easier process with you at my side.”

“So you’re never going to leave Berk alone?”

“There are benefits for adding you to my empire,” Viggo said. “A whole list of them, but seeing as you were chief, you already know the strengths of your land and your people.” His hand went under Hiccup’s tunic, and Hiccup sighed in his sleep. Anger boiled in Stoick’s blood. “I can’t reinstate you, because you would just campaign against me, but perhaps you can be of use at my feet.”

“You want me to make my people listen to you?” Stoick asked incredulously.

“Exactly. They’re not very malleable.” Viggo made a motion with his arm, pushing Hiccup’s shirt up, as if wanting to show Stoick what he was doing, and he probably did. 

“And what makes you think I won’t kill you the first chance I get?” Gods he wanted to, especially when he started stroking at one of Hiccup’s nipples. He had no right to touch him like that, especially while he was sleeping.

“Because I need your word of honor,” Viggo said. “The more pushback you give me, the worse your people, and Hiccup, suffer. They’ll be much more content if they see you helping along the transition, doing what you can to save them. I’ll tell them that their lives are on you, that if you misstep some of them die. So if you do misstep, well-” he shrugged- “they’ll have reason to resent you.”

Stoick swallowed, tightened his jaw. He might not have been chained up anymore, but he was still firmly trapped and locked in place. Viggo had him, knew how to control him. He couldn’t control him with his own pain, but by threatening his people, he could get whatever he wanted. He knew Viggo wasn’t bluffing either. He’d already had five people killed for Hiccup attempting escape. He would follow through on any threat he made.

Stoick didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t get a chance. Gothi poured some kind of disinfectant over his wrist, and it burned like the fires of Muspelheim. He hadn’t wanted to show any pain in front of Viggo, but he doubled over, tried his best not to pull his wrist away, bellowed. He chanced a look as Gothi began scrubbing at the wound with a cloth, saw pus and blood and white froth. He was definitely not in good shape.

Stoick looked away and took deep breaths, groaned. He looked to Viggo, but what he saw there was even worse. He had a hand down Hiccup’s pants. Feeling sick from everything, Stoick just looked at the ceiling, blinking away tears. His breaths came pained and heavy.

“So what does that mean for me?” Stoick asked after a time. “That I go unchained?” He wasn’t going to use the word free. There would be no such thing as freedom while this man was on his island.

“Yes,” Viggo answered. “And you will remain so if you faithfully answer to me, and do no harm to me, Ryker, or any of my men.”

Stoick recalled what had happened earlier with Hiccup and the Hunters, how badly he’d wanted to bash their skulls in and watch their brains leak out.

“Then you better watch who you have around Hiccup,” Stoick said. There was a quiet moan from the person in mention. He was sure that Hiccup was still asleep, that his body was just reacting to what was happening without the use of his conscious mind. “Some of your men earlier wanted to…” He couldn’t say it. 

“Mm, I suppose that’s to be expected. After last night they think Hiccup’s for everybody.”

“Last night? What’d you do to him?” Dread sat like a stone in his stomach, but he needed to know.

“Oh, more like what I let happen to him,” Viggo responded. “You see, I was originally going to kill ten of your people for him trying to escape, but I halved it because he was so good. I let the men who caught him have a reward. It’s only fair.”

Bile burned Stoick’s throat. The last thing he wanted to do was sick up. To not have eaten for two days and then to lose his first meal not long after eating it was not something he wanted. Even as that happened, he was rising, balling his hands into fists, filled with rage, growling, ready to strike out. 

Gothi laid a hand on his arm and he stopped, took a look at the current situation and realized why he couldn’t do anything. Viggo was sitting there smirking at him, a large needle poking at Hiccup’s balls, ready to pierce through. Stoick’s legs shook, and so did the arm he’d raised to punch with. Even if he ignored the threat to Hiccup and got to Viggo, he’d be too weak to fight him. The man was smaller than him, but that didn’t mean he was actually small. He was big, muscled, and most importantly, rested. Stoick had no chance. All this would get was pain for Hiccup, and eventually himself, maybe others. He sat back down so heavily he was almost afraid his chair would break. He was flooded with exhaustion that reached through his bones and into his very being. What was there that he could  _ do? _

Viggo chuckled. “At least you see reason. That would be a very rude wake up call, wouldn’t it?” He slipped the needle back into a pouch on his belt, and then that hand instantly took ahold of Hiccup like it was meant to be there. Stoick wanted to kill him so badly, but he couldn’t. He had a responsibility to his people. His chest ached.

“Stop touching him.” It was all he knew to say. Gothi went back to tending him, wrapping bandages around his wrist. She had a look on her face that said she wanted to hold Viggo down and rip out all his teeth. Stoick would pay to see that.

“But he’s mine now, Stoick.”

“Is he? I see no brand.”

“Oh, I don’t have to brand him to do that,” Viggo responded. “And I don’t plan to mar him like that. All I have to do is play with his mind, and I’m already having such good fun with that. He’s starting to realize there’s no way out of this.”

“Why do you want him?” Stoick asked. “Most conquering chiefs take a woman.” Perhaps Viggo was only attracted to men, but as a chief he’d still have to produce an heir anyway. He didn’t  _ want  _ anymore of his people taken, but then at least it wouldn’t be Hiccup. He felt awful thinking that way.

Hiccup whimpered in his sleep. Viggo was still stroking him, but Stoick was very decidedly not looking. He thought of driving a blade into each of Viggo’s eyes. That would be punishment for looking at Hiccup.

“He’s very unique,” Viggo answered. “And I do consider myself a collector of rare breeds.” His mouth upturned a little as if he’d made a joke. His hands had to go too, for touching Hiccup. “No one’s ever interested me as much as him before. Heather came close though.”

“And you have no interest in people your age?” Stoick asked. It wasn’t considered strange for men to take younger suitors, but it seemed that was all Viggo had an eye for.

Viggo huffed. “People my age are boring. Granted, they’re much more mature, but there’s no challenge that way.” 

Stoick wanted to tell him that that wasn’t how relationships were supposed to work, but even if Viggo knew that, he doubted he cared. Next he’d unman him. He’d used that to hurt Hiccup, and gods knew how many other people. It was more than deserving.

Gothi had finished bandaging Stoick’s right wrist, and she moved onto his left. They briefly made eye contact, shared in their simmering rage. Gothi had a temper, especially when others were being hurt.

“Though, to be fair,” Viggo began, “I thought Hiccup was in his twenties. Very mature for a young man. He has quite the attitude though. You raised a snarky little brat. That’s alright though. Leaves all the disciplining to me, and I very much enjoy that.”

“What the  _ fuck _ is wrong with you?”

“Well, I suppose people see my lack of empathy as a defect in my personality, but I really can’t find it in myself to care.”

“Maybe you should.”

Viggo said nothing as Stoick’s other wound was disinfected, and again, Stoick couldn’t keep in a yell. He put his rage into it as well. There was nowhere else he could put it. Not when he was holding all his people and his son hostage and he was too weak to fight him. It was awful having an enemy so close yet so far out of reach.

Almost as soon as Stoick’s yell died down, there was a moan from Hiccup and a laugh from Viggo, and Stoick twisted his features in disgust.

“Ah, even asleep his body’s good for me.”

Stoick would cut out his tongue too so he wouldn’t be able to say such atrocious things, make him swallow it.

Viggo was standing, cradling Hiccup against him in some mockery of care, making for the stairs.

“I can put him to bed,” Stoick snarled.

“Oh nonsense. I’ll do it.” Viggo smirked at him. It was an expression he seemed to like. “Unless of course you want to clean up your son’s cum.”

A wordless growl was the only response Stoick had for that. He watched each step Viggo took up the stairs until he vanished from sight. 

He listened carefully as Gothi bandaged his wound, but Viggo was moving quietly despite his size, so there wasn’t much for him to here. He turned to Gothi once she’d finished. There were a million questions pressing at him.

“Is Gobber alive?” he whispered. Gods, he needed to know. He wanted his best friend so badly.

Gothi nodded. She reached for the little journal and piece of charcoal she kept on her belt, knowing Stoick would have more questions.

“Where is he? Is he injured?”

She drew symbols in the journal, showed it to him. Gobber was unharmed save for a few scratches, being held in Berk’s prison. Hunters guarded the building. She was the only Berkian allowed in, only to treat wounds.

“Who else is there?”

She wrote some more, showed it to him again. The surviving members of the auxiliary riders. Stoick felt a terrible pang thinking of those who had perished. Sven and Gustav were the only ones left.

“How are they?”

Gothi didn’t write now. She just sighed, shook her head, and tears glistened in her eyes. Stoick reached out a hand, put it on her shoulder, squeezed in what he hoped would be a sign of comfort.

“I’ll get us all out of this. I promise.”

Gothi wrote again as Viggo began to come back down the stairs. This statement was in runes instead of her symbols.

**Don’t make promises you can’t keep.**

Stoick didn’t know how to respond to that. He withdrew his hand, and Gothi put the journal and charcoal away, began to gather her things. Once she had, Viggo took her by the shoulder as if they were friends, and Gothi bristled.

“Well, Stoick, thank you for the talk. I’ll be seeing you around. You’re free to leave the house by the way, as is Hiccup.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Have a good afternoon.”

Stoick was up the stairs as soon as Viggo left. Hiccup was tucked into his bed, still soundly asleep. He pulled back the blanket to see if any harm had been done to him. All he could see was that he’d been cleaned and his clothes had been put back in place. He was tempted to check under his clothes for injury, but he wasn’t going to do that to him. His autonomy and consent had been violated enough.

Stoick took the leather collar off of him, tossed it to the floor in disgust. He didn’t care about Viggo’s order for Hiccup to keep that on. He’d never told him that  _ he _ couldn’t take it off. Let him be mad at him for it.

Then Stoick sat by the bed. He gently smoothed Hiccup’s hair from his face, studied him. There were deep shadows under his eyes, dark enough to match Viggo’s, and his skin had taken on a ghostly complexion. Hopefully uninterrupted sleep would help him. He wasn’t going to try waking him. He was better off unconscious, free from the horrors that plagued them.

Stoick bent over and rested his arms on the bed, then laid his head down. He was tired as well, and his own bed called to him, but he was determined not to leave Hiccup’s side.

He knew he would have to though. Curiosity was eating away at him. He needed to see the state of his village, his people.

His eyes slid closed. But first, a rest with the knowledge that for the moment, Hiccup was safe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, uh... the Dragon Riders didn't actually show up. Certain things took longer than expected. That happens sometimes. Maybe next chapter?

Stoick woke in the morning with an aching back. He supposed that’s what he deserved for falling asleep hunched over Hiccup’s bed instead of going to his own. Groggy, he looked at his son, saw that he was still peacefully sleeping. He very easily decided not to wake him. He needed his rest.

Stoick did whatever he could to make the house seem normal, though it had been absolutely trashed. He pushed all the furniture back into place, got the fire going to warm up the house, pulled the chains down off the rafters. He even managed to scrounge some food together and cook a meal. As he sat and ate in silence, wrists burning with every movement, he contemplated what he was to do now. He knew he was just doing things here to stay with Hiccup, to put off leaving the house, but he knew that he had to. He’d been isolated from his village while they were under enemy occupation, and he had to go check on the state of his people, take account of everything, show his face to give some semblance of hope. It was good that Viggo no longer wanted him dead, but the situation he’d put him in was impossible. How could he hope to get his people to fight back and  _ win _ when everything he said would be under scrutiny? And how could they win after already suffering such tremendous loss?

At the same time that Stoick knew he had to leave, he very much didn’t want to. He wanted to stay with Hiccup, wanted to be glued to his side until the danger was over, no matter how long that would take. He never wanted anyone touching him ever again. What was worse, he knew he couldn’t do a damn thing to prevent what was being done to him, even if he was there. It didn’t matter where he was: Hiccup would still be hurt. That was the worst part. He was utterly helpless.

He did his best to clean up, but he didn’t plan on going to the bathhouse any time soon. It was good to put on fresh clothes and no longer be sitting in the smell of his own sweat and blood. 

Even after finishing everything he could possibly do in the house, it was a long time before Stoick left. He made sure to leave a note for Hiccup though. He didn’t want him to worry… too much.

Leaving the house was strange after so long, the sun blinding, and Stoick had to shade his eyes and blink to try to adjust to the light. The fresh air was good, and he took a moment to stand at his doorstep, close his eyes, and inhale deeply. The effect only worked with his eyes closed, because if he looked there would be scorched wood and earth and stone, damage from the battle. Without looking he could pretend everything was normal, could listen to the sounds of his people working to make repairs and pretend that it was a normal day.

He braced himself and went down the steps.

The first place he went to was the main courtyard, given that it wasn’t very far. His gaze went to the Mead Hall, but he refused to go in there of his own volition. There was too much pain in there now, the memories of screams and blood, the evidence of it.

It hadn’t rained since yesterday, and so the courtyard was splattered in red, and it still smelled of blood, the metallic scent rising from the stone to attack his nostrils. Gods, there was so much of it. And the chopping block was still there too, a threat, an assurance that it would be used again without hesitation. Stoick felt sick. Tears stung at his eyes.

He moved on. There were a lot of unfamiliar people, Viggo’s soldiers, bearing arms though they were really no longer in danger from any of the Berkians. They were patrolling the streets, overlooking work and repairs, lingering about.

There were gasps and smiles and exclamations when people saw him. No one went to approach him though, probably afraid to do so with the Hunters about, unsure of what his status was. They were just glad to see him alive. Stoick would nod and wave and smile back, try to present calmly. His image was good for his people. He knew that. Especially after what had happened with Hiccup, after they’d seen him witness the executions and heard that they were supposedly his fault. He hoped no one was angered with his son. If they were, he’d deal with them. He didn’t think it was right to be angry with Hiccup. The situation was impossible and he had thought he’d found a good time to escape. He’d thought wrong, and had ended up punished. That wasn’t his fault. The atrocities were thanks to Viggo and Ryker. Hiccup had just been trying his best.

Stoick made his way over to Berk’s prison. Yes, Gothi had told him that she was the only Berkian being let inside, but he could still try. He was desperate to see Gobber.

He was stopped by guards before he could even get to the building. One put a hand on his chest, the other drawing his sword.

“No one’s allowed in,” the one with the sword said gruffly. “Turn around and go about your business.”

Stoick swatted the other guard’s hand away. Both of these men were smaller than him and he could easily take them in a fight, but he didn’t want to bring repercussions down on his people.

“Oh, but this is my business. A chief isn’t allowed to see his people?”

Sneers. “A  _ deposed  _ chief.”

Stoick didn’t back down. He crossed his arms stubbornly, giving each of them hard stares. Many people had crumbled under his gaze.

And so did they. The sword was lowered and sheathed. 

“I’ll escort you in,” the other said bitterly. “You have five minutes.”

Five minutes was much better than being turned away. The guard walked with Stoick as he entered the building. It was dark inside save for a torch lit near the door of each cell. He found himself almost afraid to look into them and see who was there. Luckily, he found his friend in the first cell near the door. He was sitting on the provided bed, looking down at the floor. His hook was missing, but his peg leg was still in place. He didn’t look up when Stoick came close to the bars, probably assuming he was just another Dragon Hunter come to taunt him.

“Gobber!” He couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. There was a bandage around Gobber’s right bicep, but besides that he looked unharmed. The man looked up, eyes going big when he saw him. He stood so fast he stumbled, used the momentum to come to the bars and grasp them with his one hand.

“Stoick! I- They weren’t telling me anything! I thought you were dead!”

Stoick clasped his hand through the bars, smiling wide, feeling so relieved to see him. Gobber’s exclamation had other voices rising in the prison, excited calls of his name. Stoick wished he could go and speak to each of them at length, but his time was short. His priority was Gobber.

“It takes a lot to kill me.” Stoick tried to smile when he said it, but all he could think of was Viggo saying he’d wish he was dead, and part of him already did. He didn’t want to have to see Hiccup suffer anymore. He didn’t want to see his people suffer. He felt like an utter failure for this happening under his watch and rule. He should have been able to protect everyone and stop this, have the enemy turn tail and run. But now his island was under occupation and his son was being used as a pleasure slave.

“What happened?” Gobber asked, clenching his hand tightly.

“A… A lot,” Stoick answered. “But Viggo’s letting me go unchained now.”

“Do you know why he hasn’t killed you?”

Stoick released his hand, sighed heavily. “He wants to use me to help transition Berk to his rule. I had to give him my word that I wouldn’t harm him or any of his men.”

“But…” Gobber looked at a loss. “Stoick, you can take them!”

Stoick looked warily at the guard that was standing nearby, knowing he could hear everything that was being said. He shook his head, rubbed at his face with one hand. “Not all of them, Gobber. And Viggo, he’s willing to kill people to get what he wants. He already… There were executions yesterday.”

Gobber’s eyes went big. “Oh Thor, who?”

There was a lump in Stoick’s throat. Still, he somehow made himself give the names. For a moment Gobber just looked away, clearly stunned.

“Why?” he finally asked.

“Hiccup tried escaping,” Stoick answered. “He failed. That was his punishment.”

“He’s alive too?” Gobber asked hopefully.

Stoick nodded. “Viggo wants him that way.” His voice lowered, broke. “Good gods, Gobber. He’s… he’s using him as a…” His legs felt weak but he managed to remain standing. “He’s infatuated with him.”

Gobber’s jaw tightened. He blinked as if to clear the tears that were forming, but they fell down his cheeks. He shook his head.

“No, not Hiccup. He didn’t… He couldn’t have…”

“Right in front of me.”

A sob wrenched itself from Gobber’s lips. He pressed his forehead to the bars, shoulders shaking. Stoick took his hand again, feeling awful that there was nothing more he could do to comfort him, just feeling awful in general. He wanted to cry too, but he couldn’t do that in front of his people, in front of one of Viggo’s men. He had to remain strong, or at least pretend to be. He couldn’t crack in front of any of them. It would make him look weak, would make his people lose their resolve, and he couldn’t have that happen.

Gobber pulled in a deep breath, clearly not wanting to cry like this in front of anyone either. He looked at Stoick, wiped his eyes on his stump. 

“Hiccup’s strong.” It sounded like he said it more to himself than anyone else. He nodded. “Yeah, he’s strong. Hel, I trained him.”

Stoick wasn’t going to tell Gobber just how broken his son seemed. He doubted he could get the words past his lips without screaming. His chest felt like it was going to burst.

“We’ll be okay, Gobber,” Stoick said. It felt like a lie. Maybe it was. He patted his hand. He wanted to say that he would get them out of this, but he couldn’t with the guard right there.

Gobber looked at a loss for words. He just tightened his lips and nodded.

“Okay, time’s up.” The guard grabbed Stoick by the shoulder. Stoick had the urge to fight him, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Someone else would take the punishment for that, and what kind of chief would that make him? He’d failed at protecting his people. He wasn’t about to do it again.

“I  _ will  _ see you again, Gobber,” Stoick said, firmly meeting his gaze, making it a promise.

“Aye, chief.”

Stoick expected the guard to react to that, to him being called chief while being deposed, but he said nothing as he led him from the prison. Stoick was left feeling a strange mix of relief and hopelessness.

  
  


Hiccup actually felt well-rested when he woke. His exhaustion was gone, he was breathing clearly, and his body hardly hurt. He was hungry and thirsty though. He was in his bed, and for a few moments he could just lay there and act like nothing terrible had ever happened. But then he looked over at Toothless’ sleeping stone, saw it empty, and he felt a pang in his chest. He very badly wanted to see his dragon. He wondered if he’d ever be allowed to again after his escape attempt.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. He’d reluctantly undone Astrid’s braids yesterday. They’d knotted and gotten blood in them. 

Something felt… off. He didn’t really know what it was until he stood and carefully stretched in a manner that wouldn’t upset the wound on his stomach. He lifted his tunic to look and-

A shocked yell left him at what he saw. There were hurried footsteps on the stairs, and he expected it to be his dad, but that’s not who came rushing into his room.

“What the fuck did you do to me?!” Hiccup cried in outrage.

Viggo just gestured to him. “I’m certain that’s quite obvious.”

Hiccup couldn’t keep in a distressed whimper. He tentatively reached to gingerly feel at one nipple and the metal barbell in it. He gasped at his own touch. The nub was quite tender, but it sparked an oddly good sensation through him at the same time. Both his nipples, now pierced, felt like they were more sensitive… which was the last thing he needed.

Still, he asked: “Why?” He couldn’t stop looking. He’d had this done to him without his consent, while sleeping. He wanted to take the piercings out but he knew Viggo wouldn’t let him. He was horrified, and nausea swished in his stomach. He’d had his body modified without asking for it, while he’d been unconscious. 

“Piercings make the nipples more sensitive,” Viggo explained. “Most say they actually feel quite good.” He came over to him, and Hiccup expected him to touch him, but instead he bent over, picked something up off the floor. He held up the collar. Hiccup hadn’t even realized he’d had that off his neck. He lowered his tunic: there was no point looking anymore, though he very much wanted to. “I think it’s safe to assume that your father took this off of you?”

“Where is he?” Hiccup demanded. Was he still chained down below?

“He went out,” Viggo answered. He came close, put the collar around Hiccup’s neck, buckled it, and Hiccup could do nothing but let him. “The both of you are allowed to go unchained.”

“So you really don’t want him dead.”

“Not at the moment, no. He can be useful.” Viggo curled a finger under the collar and tugged, pulling Hiccup up against him. “But you didn’t answer me. Was it him who took this off of you?”

“He must have done it while I was sleeping,” Hiccup replied. “I didn’t do it.”

Viggo searched his eyes, must have seen the honesty there. He nodded. “Good. You learn quickly.” He released him. “Now, it’s midmorning, so I’m assuming you’re hungry.”

Hiccup didn’t want to follow him down the stairs, but he was indeed hungry. He found a plate at the table, some of the foods familiar, some of them not. He wasn’t surprised to find that his cup was filled with wine. No change in his diet it seemed. He hated that he had no choice but to eat things that would make him want sex. But Viggo was right. He was indeed hungry. He sat. 

He didn’t like how Viggo sat across from him in his dad’s chair, but he said nothing of it, just started eating quietly, eyes lowered. There was nothing he could do about any of this, so he might as well be compliant. 

Viggo wasn’t in the mood for conversation it seemed. He picked up a book from the table, opened it, and Hiccup realized that it looked familiar.

“That’s mine,” he said. There was no harshness in it though, no demand, just defeated recognition. 

Viggo raised his eyebrows at him. “And?”

Hiccup didn’t respond to the challenge, just quietly went back to eating. Everything tasted bitter, even the fruit. What he’d found to have a pleasant taste before was lacking it now, but he figured it was just his mood. He was glad Viggo didn’t speak to him at all throughout the meal. The silence at least wasn’t awkward.

He realized that it had almost passed the allotted 72 hours it would take for the message to reach the Dragon Riders and for them to come here. He felt a quick burst of hope, but then realized it was utterly stupid. Six people against this many Dragon Hunters that had managed to defeat the auxiliary riders and Berk’s warriors? He wished he could find a Terrible Terror, send them a message to hold back and go get help, but he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to leave town and wander the woods unaccompanied. Astrid would be leading them though. She was smart. There would be rage though, desperation, and that could cloud her judgment. Needless to say, Hiccup was frightened of what was to come. He wished he could do something about it, but he was stuck with Viggo.

“Finish your wine,” Viggo said sternly as Hiccup pushed his empty plate away. He’d hardly had anything to drink, trying to limit the amount of aphrodisiacs he put into his body. He was thirsty though. 

Hiccup sighed, picked up the cup and looked at it. Viggo was just staring at him, waiting for him to follow his order. He had an impulsive thought of just dumping it on the floor, but he’d be punished for that. He couldn’t win. He just made himself down it quickly. 

“Good boy,” Viggo said matter of factly. He put the book down, pushed his chair out a little. “Now come here. Tunic off. Get in my lap.”

Hiccup tightened his jaw, but said nothing. He didn’t like how lust had stirred at the thought of getting in Viggo’s lap. He stood, removed his tunic, not liking the feeling of the fabric brushing his nipples. Well, he did like it. That’s what the problem was.

_ Fuck, he’s turning me into a whore. _

He went around the table. He was awkward straddling Viggo, not sure what to hold onto to balance himself. He didn’t want to touch him, but then he had no choice but to, grasping at his shoulders. He hated how his body enjoyed the feeling of this position, Viggo’s thick thighs under him, his groin against his. Neither of them were hard, but Hiccup was sure that that would soon change. His body was beginning to like Viggo’s, was associating his shape and his feel with pleasure.

Viggo rubbed hands over his hips and waist, even over the bandages. “Mm, you look delectable.” He ran one hand over his front, trailed fingers underneath the collar to stroke at his throat. Hiccup’s breaths were coming in pants. 

“What do you want from me?” Hiccup asked. His throat ached at the thought of having to suck him.

“Nothing but your pleasure,” Viggo said. “I’m not in the mood for fucking at the moment, but I am in the mood to make you cum.”

Hiccup didn’t know how he felt about that. It disturbed him that Viggo liked seeing him like this, liked giving him pleasure. He was an  _ enemy _ . He shouldn’t have felt that way about him. Hiccup preferred enemies that simply wanted to use his intellect, torture him, or kill him. This was so much worse than anything he’d ever faced before.

Hiccup made a small “oh” sound as Viggo very gently brushed his fingers over one of his nipples. Pain and pleasure all at once, making blood pool in his cock to harden it. He expected Viggo to be rough with him here but he wasn’t, his touches feather-light. He brought a hand to each nipple, touching them so carefully, and it felt oh so good. He panted and moaned, wrapped his arms around his neck, leaned into him.

“Yes, you like that, don’t you?”

Hiccup could only answer with a groan. It  _ hurt _ , especially when he brushed over the metal studs in his flesh, but it was shooting sexual pleasure straight through him. He hated to admit that Viggo was right, but the piercings  _ had _ made him more sensitive. 

Viggo lowered his head, and Hiccup gave a loud cry when his tongue lightly touched a nipple. He whined loudly, rocked his hips. This was turning him on like crazy, made him want touch on his cock, all the places between his legs and inside that mattered. He clutched at Viggo hard, continued to rock on him, enjoying the pressure and friction, though he desperately wanted out of his pants and a hand on him.

“Harder,” Hiccup gasped. The light touches to his nipples were driving him crazy. He needed more.

Teeth on him, very briefly. Then Viggo was back to light and barely there, alternating with his mouth and his fingers. Hiccup let out a stream of moans and whines. 

“ _ Please. _ ”

Viggo didn’t listen to his pleas. Hiccup’s cock was aching and burning. He threw his head back, dug his nails into the back of his neck, heard him grunt against him.

Hiccup didn’t know how long it went on for. It was absolute torture. At one point he’d tried reaching down into his own pants to get himself off, but Viggo had sharply slapped his hand away and ordered him not to do that, telling him he’d only cum when he wanted him to. Hiccup could only hold onto him and cry out and grind.

Then he was taking each of the studs between a thumb and forefinger, very suddenly tugging hard, all gentleness gone. The pain was sharp, but there was a massive gush of pleasure. Hiccup moaned loudly.

“Oh  _ fuck! _ ”

“Come on, Hiccup. I know you can cum from this.”

“Please, please.”

“You’re so close. Just let it happen.” More tugging, rough pinching, twisting. The sensations were a shock after so long of gentle, and it hurt terribly and felt incredible all at once.

Hiccup yelled when he reached orgasm, rocked desperately on Viggo. Pleasure sparked through his body, and his nipples were the most sensitive they’d ever been. His moans came from deep in his chest; he was close to sobbing.

“That’s it, darling,” Viggo coaxed. He splayed a hand across his back, clutched at his ass with the other. While Hiccup was still recovering, he put his mouth to his right nipple and roughly sucked.

“ _ Hngh!  _ Too much!” 

Viggo clearly didn’t care. He just held him harder and continued doing things with his mouth as Hiccup squirmed in his lap. The pleasure was so strong it hurt, and the sensations it created in his cock were too much. Then there was the pain of the piercings themselves. Hiccup wanted so badly to hit him, fight him, but instead he just held on and writhed in discomfort. This would only stop when Viggo wanted it to.

Eventually it did, but only when Hiccup was very ashamedly crying. Viggo wiped the tears from his face, kissed him firmly on the mouth.

“That was a spectacular show,” Viggo commented. He looked to Hiccup’s chest, mouth upturning on one side. “Your nipples look so pretty now.”

Hiccup couldn’t help looking, curious to see what he was talking about. They were wet and red and puffy, and he was still shocked by the sight of the piercings in them. But of course Viggo liked them like that. A hand was at his chest again, and Hiccup tried to draw back, but then he was being pinched, and he yelped. He ached abominably without the touch.

Viggo let out a little laugh, let go of him to run his hand through his hair instead. “Sorry, my boy. You’re just too much fun to play with.”

Hiccup gave an angry huff through his nose. He wanted to tell him he wasn’t his plaything, but that’s exactly what he was being used for. He was a doll and a whore and a toy. Tears welled in his eyes again, this time from emotion instead of physical sensation. He wiped them away in frustration. He didn’t want to shed more tears in Viggo’s presence.

“Don’t be melancholy, love. You have much to be grateful for.” He loosened his grip, so Hiccup took that as a sign that he was free to get off of him. He slipped off the chair and stood, wiping his eyes again, ashamed of himself.

“Sure I do.” He laughed hoarsely. A quote from Tuffnut came to mind. “It’s all good in the Archipelahood.”

Viggo scrunched his face in confusion, blinked a few times. “What?”

Hiccup shifted, uncomfortable now that the front of his pants were wet and sticky, not happy to be standing in front of Viggo like this. “Nothing. Something Tuffnut said.” He didn’t see any reason to bring up the fact that he was cynical and angry. Was he even allowed to feel negative emotions around Viggo? He always tried to contradict them. He only remembered yesterday as being a time he had let him just cry instead of trying to stop him. He looked down at himself with a frown. “I have to go change.” He started moving for the stairs, really not liking the feeling of cum in his pants.

Viggo stood. “Oh, I brought some of your new clothes.” Hiccup waited unhappily as he bent and took out folded clothes from behind the chair. He hadn’t liked the new ones, wanted to wear his regular clothes and at least be a little bit comfortable. But instead it seemed like Viggo wanted to drive him out of all semblance of comfort. He didn’t even feel like his own skin was his.

Hiccup didn’t make any sound of dissent however. He took the clothes and went to clean up and change. He was glad Viggo hadn’t followed him, was giving him privacy for once.

He came back down the stairs in a huff. “Do you get off on humiliating me?”

Viggo looked him up and down. Well, it could have been described more accurately as a leer. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“You look very good, Hiccup .”

Hiccup bristled at the compliment, but didn’t show it. He realized anger was getting the best of him today, and he had to calm down before he acted in a way that resulted in consequence. He wasn’t sure how far he could push it.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Viggo feigned innocence. “Whatever is the problem?”

Hiccup did his best to reel in his rage. He gestured to himself, at the black leather pants that hugged just about everything, and the white tunic with a plunging V-neck that was practically transparent. He wasn’t at all happy about how easily his piercings could be seen through it. He remembered being made to try this on. It had been one of the more lewd outfits. He would have much preferred the nobler looking ones.

“I… I look like a whore,” he admitted quietly, defeated. He realized that that was Viggo’s whole point. At the moment, he wanted him to dress the part to better take on the role. He was shoving him into it without a choice, trying to twist him into accepting that that’s what he was.

Viggo came close, cupped his face with one hand. “You are my concubine, are you not?” His thumb stroked his cheek.

Hiccup looked away from him. He couldn’t answer. He supposed he was now, but it hurt to admit it.

“Say it.”

The word “no” was on his tongue, but then the scent of blood was invading his nostrils, and he could feel it slick and warm on his skin. Dead, unseeing eyes stared back at him. It had been his fault. He wasn’t allowed to deny him. He took in a shuddering breath. He couldn’t meet Viggo’s gaze.

“Yes.”

Viggo patted him fondly on the cheek. “Good lad.” He took him roughly by the jaw, wrenched his head back towards him, and kissed him. Hiccup just clenched his hands into fists and let him do it. “Now-” he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, directing him towards the door- “let’s go for a walk.”

Hiccup dug his heel and his prosthetic into the floor. He didn’t want to leave the house, not looking like this, not by Viggo’s side. Viggo just stopped and looked at him, demanding an explanation. Hiccup couldn’t outright deny him, so they both knew he had to try something else.

“I’m not feeling well. My lungs-”

“Could probably use some fresh air,” Viggo countered.

Granted, he was most likely right, and Hiccup was actually feeling rather good physically after all the rest he’d gotten. He slumped his shoulders, sighed. Then he felt at the collar, but didn’t dare put his hand near the buckle, didn’t want Viggo to think he was going to take it off.

“Yeah,” he said sullenly. “You’re probably right.”

Viggo smiled at him, put pressure on his shoulders to get him moving. And so Hiccup let himself be taken outside to face more shame and humiliation. 


	11. Chapter 11

Hiccup was not happy that he had to go through the main square to get anywhere. Viggo, of course, acted like the blood wasn’t there. He didn’t walk right through it, but he paid it no mind. Hiccup couldn’t help staring, and his chest constricted when he realized that the chopping block was still there. A reminder for both him and his father to not step out of line. His hands trembled and his breaths began to come in pants. He felt like ice was traveling through his veins. He heard his own screams in his ears, saw the splatter of blood, a head rolling away…

It took Viggo taking him by the elbow to realize that he’d frozen in his tracks. He didn’t stop looking at the scarlet-stained dirt until it was impossible to crane his head so far.

“Yesterday was necessary,” Viggo told him, obviously knowing what was troubling him. “Not only to subdue you, but Berk’s people.”

“Necessary doesn’t mean right,” Hiccup argued.

“Yes, yes, you think me a monster,” Viggo said tiredly. They’d gone over this before. Hiccup didn’t know how to get it through to him that his views on morality were false, that there was no way to be in the right when harming others. He basked in what he did too much to care if it was wrong. “But my people who went hungry because you damaged my profits think the same of you.”

Hiccup stopped, shocked. That was the first he’d ever heard of  _ people  _ suffering because of what he‘d done. 

“You’re lying.”

Viggo turned to him. “Am I?” 

Hiccup nodded. “If people starved it wasn’t my doing. You keep too much money for yourself.” He thought of the things Viggo had bought just for him. There was no way his own people had starved because of him, if it had even happened. And with Berk’s money on top of all his own it didn’t seem possible. He looked him in the eye. “You’re selfish.”

No sign of anger, no warning. Viggo backhanded him so hard across the face that he stumbled and almost fell. Hiccup righted himself, put a hand to his stinging right cheek, then his lower lip. His fingers came away with blood. His eyes watered from the blow.

Viggo took him forcefully by the chin, made him meet his gaze. There was amusement there of all things.

“Your actions as a leader had consequences, but you’re too blinded by your imagined justice to see it,” he told him. “You’re naive, Hiccup.”

Hiccup lowered his gaze in submission. He couldn’t win an argument with this man. He always had something to counter what he said. And speaking the truth would apparently result in harm to his person. 

When Viggo released his chin, he looked around, realized that some people had stopped to watch what was going on. Some were Dragon Hunters. Others he recognized. His stomach churned when he saw children. He was hardly dressed appropriately to be out in public, never mind around children, and they shouldn’t have to see the violence he went through. He lowered his head, crossed his arms over his chest to cover his piercings, (though the contact hurt like Hel and made him grunt), and fell back into step with Viggo. Blood dripped from his lip. He would have wiped it on his sleeve but he was sure Viggo wouldn’t like him staining the fabric.

“Don’t walk hunched over like that,” Viggo chastised after a time. “It’s hardly fitting.”

“I don’t want people to see,” Hiccup said honestly, voice quiet. His response wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He always had to do what Viggo wanted.

Viggo huffed, took one of his arms, and Hiccup easily let him pull it away from him. No use in making this harder on himself. He tried to straighten, to walk like he normally did, but all it did was make his cheeks redden with embarrassment. There were people looking, and of course there were. It was their enemy and suppressor walking around with their heir by his side with a collar. They were bound to draw attention.

“Tell me, Hiccup, how long is the flight from here to Dragon’s Edge?” Viggo asked it calmly with his hands folded behind his back, but it was a loaded question. Was he suspecting that Hiccup had sent a message?

“Um…” Hiccup didn’t know how to answer. He couldn’t make too much of a lie. Viggo had never flown a dragon but he knew them well, and he probably knew the distance between the two places from maps. He’d know if he was offshooting too much. He’d probably made his own calculation that was fairly close. 

“I see. You don’t want to answer. I’ll guess then and you tell me if I’m close.” He wrapped an arm around his waist like they were an average couple, and Hiccup cringed at it. “Hm… Forty hours?”

“Too long.” Hiccup could only go along with this.

“Thirty?”

“Too short.”

“Ah, I suppose you’re right. Somewhere in the middle then. Thirty four?”

Hiccup didn’t know what to do, so he just nodded. Viggo opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped as they turned a corner and practically ran right into… Stoick. It was his dad.

_ Shit! _ Hiccup most definitely didn’t want his father seeing him paraded around like a prized concubine, on the enemy’s arm. He put his arms over his chest to cover himself, especially not wanting him to see the piercings through the scant fabric. He didn’t need to know about that. Mortification took a knife to his gut.

“Stoick, good to see you up and about.” Viggo put cheer into his voice. He was rather good at acting like a normal person. His hand slid down to the small of Hiccup’s back. “You looked right awful yesterday.”

“Yeah, and whose doing was that?” Stoick countered in clear upset. Hiccup didn’t like the way he was looking him up and down. He knew it was out of concern and not judgment, but it still didn’t feel good. He stared at the ground.

“A combined effort if I recall.” His hand went lower, grabbed at Hiccup’s ass, and Hiccup jumped and squeaked. Viggo was doing this on purpose, trying to rile up his father so that he would break the deal they had and he would have an excuse to shame him and dish out more executions. “But no matter. How are you finding the repairs to be coming along?”

“Buildings can be replaced,” Stoick said bluntly. The frustration from holding himself back from attacking the man was tangible in his voice. “People can’t.”

Viggo nodded as if he cared. Hiccup was actually perfectly fine with his father not addressing him. He’d rather everyone just pretend he wasn’t there.

But then his dad did address him. “How are you feeling, Hiccup?”

Viggo’s hand squeezed his ass. His nipples hurt. Blood was drying on his lip. He wondered how humiliation hadn’t killed him yet. He wished it would. 

He didn’t look up from the ground. “Fine.”

“I figured some fresh air would do him good,” Viggo said. “Of course, he’s allowed out without me, but I saw no harm in joining him.”

_ Harm to me _ . 

“Oh, so you’re not permanently glued to him?” Stoick asked cynically. “Good to see you with your cock in your pants, though.”

Hiccup cringed hard at the mention of that particular body part, though he was also terribly glad he had yet to see it unclothed that day. He and Stoick were both glad it wasn’t currently connected to him. 

Hiccup didn’t have to look at Viggo to imagine the smoldering look on his face. 

“I don’t take it out for no reason.” A finger ran over the crack of Hiccup’s ass, making it very clear to him what said reason was. Luckily Stoick couldn’t see the action. Hiccup didn’t like the touch, precisely because his body liked it. Heat momentarily flashed through his veins. Fuck Viggo and everything he was doing to him.

“The only good reason for that to see the light of day is if someone’s about to chop it off.”

Viggo put a hand to his chest. “Stoick, I’m hurt.” There was mock pain in his voice. He’d heard the threat from him before. “Why would you wish such a thing upon another man?”

Bristling silence. Hiccup glanced at his dad, saw his face going red with rage, his hands balled into fists. 

_ Please, dad, don’t.  _ Hiccup shook his head at him. An action by him against Viggo would surely result in more death. 

Stoick glanced to him, then back at Viggo. “I have to go check the storehouses,” he said harshly. Then he was pushing past Viggo and leaving without another word, his stomping steps taking a while to fade away. 

Viggo put his hand back to Hiccup’s waist, and Hiccup gave him an accusatory look.

“Did you have to do that?”

“Couldn’t stop myself,” Viggo replied. He smiled mirthfully, truly enjoying what had just happened. “Now, on we go.”

Hiccup frowned, but said nothing else as he walked pressed against Viggo’s side.

After a few minutes, emotion hit him, very suddenly and very forcefully. He pushed Viggo’s arm away, stumbled towards the closest building to hide his face against it and lean on it to hold himself up. His knees shook and his chest hurt. Here he was, unchained but the farthest thing from free, with his rapist walking him around like a prize. And his father, who he’d thought could always protect him, could do absolutely nothing. No one could. They were all trapped.

Hiccup didn’t want to cry, but the tears and sobs came anyway. The movement of it wrenched at his still-healing wound.

Viggo laid a hand on his back, and Hiccup flinched away from it.

“Don’t touch me!” He didn’t even look at him, went into the nearest alleyway to try to get at least a little privacy. Of course, Viggo followed. Hiccup kept his back turned to him, shuddered when he was touching him again, caressing the length of his spine.

“I can help you, Hiccup.” His voice was soft.

“Don’t want…”

Viggo pressed himself against him, ran his mouth over his ear. “Surely lust is better than anguish.”

He was right, and Hiccup was sure that it would quash all thought and emotion, but: “Not in… public…”

A hand slipped around him, went to fondle him over his pants. His hips bumped into his ass in a steady grind.

“Don’t,” Hiccup choked out. The last thing he wanted was to be reduced to a moaning mess within earshot of others, be taken where anyone could walk by and see. Despite the touching, he found that he wasn’t even getting hard.

“Seems you need a little help.” Knuckles brushed his hair aside to reveal his neck, and Hiccup cried out as a needle very suddenly plunged into him above his collar. Then he felt the rush and burn of the aphrodisiacs entering his veins.

“D-do you just carry that with you?” Hiccup asked as the needle was withdrawn. The shock of it had made his tears stop. There was a pleasant heat spreading through him, gathering in his stomach, reaching lower. He panted.

“Occasionally.” Viggo kissed the spot where he had shoved the needle, and the touch of his lips made Hiccup shiver, but in a good way. His pants, already too tight, became much too confining. He moaned a little, bucked against Viggo’s hand. Viggo squeezed and it hurt, but in a good way. “That’s it, my dear.”

Hiccup’s cheeks heated in embarrassment. He was really about to be fucked outside in broad daylight with the street right there, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Even worse, he didn’t want to. He needed to be fulfilled.

“ _ Oh, Viggo… _ ” He could feel him hard against his ass. Gods he wanted that, wanted to feel him stretching him and taking him deep. Maybe he liked just how big he was.

Viggo’s other hand went to rub at a hurting nipple above his tunic. 

“Fuck!” It was such an awful, sweet pain, made the burning in his cock all the more fierce. His need was making everything hurt. Viggo’s touch was excellent, but not enough. Still, there was an inkling of sense in him. “W-we should go inside.”

“You think you could survive all the way to your house?” His hand reached lower to cup and squeeze his balls through the leather. 

Hiccup gasped. He couldn’t believe how quickly he’d fallen prey to this. “N-no.”

That seemed to be the answer Viggo needed. He was yanking his pants down around his knees, and Hiccup was glad to be free of their confines. Then Viggo’s hand was on his cock, still-clothed erection grinding against his ass, and Hiccup couldn’t handle it. He dug his nails into the wall.

“F-fuck me.”

“What was that?”

Hiccup whined desperately. His strokes were firm and good. 

“Fuck me.” He said it a little louder.

“I’m sorry. I still can’t seem to hear you.”

Hiccup gave a frustrated shout. “Fuck me, dammit!”

“Mm, much better. Do you want to wet my cock for me?”

Hiccup was quick to turn around and get on his knees. The faster he did this, the faster he’d be fulfilled. He grappled with Viggo’s belt, accidentally cutting his palm on one of the spikes, but he didn’t care. Then there was hot flesh in his mouth and a hand placed firmly on his head. Viggo rocked his hips and Hiccup choked. He could handle the discomfort though. Viggo’s  heavy musk was all around him and it just made him want him more. He clutched at his thighs, let out a muffled moan. He’d never noticed it before, but this time when Viggo reached deep into his throat, it was like he touched a spot that flooded him through with pleasure. Hiccup shuddered with it. He was enjoying having cock down his throat for once, which he figured was better than all the past experiences with it. He was fine with letting Viggo fuck into his mouth and coat himself in his drool. The movement just made him think of how it would feel in his ass.

Viggo tugged hard on his hair, took his jaw in a bruising grip with his other hand. The stinging in his scalp felt sweet, simply made his blood rush more. He shoved him right down to his pelvis, burying his nose in his pubic hair, and Hiccup could hardly breathe, drowning in his scent. He didn’t fight though, just clutched at Viggo’s thighs, let himself be asphyxiated.

He released him and let him breathe for a moment or two, and then plunged back in. It was rough like it had been that first time, but Hiccup’s mouth and throat were adjusting to being penetrated, so there was no blood. It did very much hurt and he was choking, but as long as this led to his own pleasure and an orgasm, Hiccup didn’t care.

Then Viggo was pulling himself free, yanking Hiccup up and turning him around. Hiccup braced his hands against the wall, smearing blood on it, his palm stinging. One of Viggo’s hands went around his neck, the other rubbing fingers coated in spit over his rim. Hiccup moaned loudly in satisfaction.

“Mm, you want me, don’t you?” His voice was heavy, dripping with lust, and it made Hiccup’s nerves sing. He was too lost in everything to realize how wrong this all was. He could deal with that later, would inevitably have to.

“ _ Yes _ .”

  
  


Viggo was vastly enjoying the things he was doing to Hiccup. Here they were right in view of the street, Hiccup uncaringly wanting for him.

“Louder.” By now the people of Berk knew what he was doing to Hiccup, but they pitied him for it. He wanted them to despise him, think he was making a clear-headed choice to fuck their oppressor, that he wasn’t being manipulated and forced at every turn and filled with things that gave him no choice in the matter. It was easy to sway a mass of unknowing people. He’d been planning this the moment he’d stepped outside, had been waiting for the perfect opportunity. And if none had come he would have made one, made it seem like circumstance instead of his doing.

Hiccup did what he wanted. “Yes, Viggo!”

Viggo dripped more spit on him, not wanting to tear him. Certainly this was going to hurt Hiccup nonetheless, but the boy was too drowned in aphrodisiacs to care. He simply wanted to be fucked by him, and that alone gave Viggo great pleasure.

Hiccup moaned loudly, curved his ass into him, penetrating himself on his fingers. Viggo purred at the action, bit and tugged at his ear. He glanced towards the street out of the corner of his eye while shallow-fucking a whining Hiccup with two fingers. He’d picked a busy time of day for this, so they were quite far from alone. There were those pretending nothing was even happening, people going about their business while surreptitiously trying to watch, others hurrying on by to avoid it, a mother with her hands pressed over her child’s ears, keeping her head turned away. Viggo enjoyed all of it. This was what he wanted. What better way to defame Hiccup than this? Now he would have no chance at rallying his people even if he wanted to try. 

Hiccup cried out when Viggo replaced his fingers with his cock. It wasn’t like Viggo to get down to it so quickly with hardly any playing, but this was a show more than anything else. There was intent to this beyond satisfying himself. Besides, he could play with Hiccup all he wanted later.

He groaned and huffed out a laugh when he settled himself fully in Hiccup, took his hip with one hand, still holding his neck with the other. He was tight without much stretching and the friction and heat of him was delicious.

“Yes, right where I’m supposed to be.” He had to keep driving it into his head that he was his, that this was what he was meant for. Pleased, he began moving his hips.

Hiccup let out the most wonderful sounds as Viggo fucked him: cries and moans and deep growls. It wasn’t a good indication of whether he was feeling pain or pleasure, but Viggo guessed a mix of both. Looking over his shoulder, he could see that his cock was still erect, and precum dripped enticingly from the tip. He wanted to touch it, but he also wanted to see if Hiccup could cum from just this. His body needed training for that, but there was also the fact that he’d used the injection to get him like this. So maybe… Granted, Viggo would love to play with ass and have him begging until he finally released. Though, that would also be for another time. Yes, this right now was for his own pleasure, but also to deprive Hiccup of more of his status and reputation.

“ _ Oh _ … Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Hiccup was arching back into him, nails clawing at the wall. Viggo liked the curve of his body, liked watching his cock disappear into him and the slap of his balls against him. For a moment he pulled out simply to listen to Hiccup whine in desperation and see his hole clench for him. Then he was going back in, watching the way he stretched him, and Hiccup shouted in ecstasy.

“You were made to take cock, darling,” Viggo panted. “You can’t walk around with a body like that and expect to not have your holes filled. And look how good you take it.”

Hiccup made no indication of agreement or protest. That was alright. Viggo just needed him to hear it enough to get his thoughts all twisted. Yes, beautifully twisted just for him. 

Viggo had to admit that sometimes it was nice to just have a rough fuck with hardly any preamble. There was something animalistic about it that he quite enjoyed. He was using Hiccup to fulfill his needs, and Hiccup was taking it gladly and loudly. 

When his sounds turned more desperate, Viggo brought his mouth to his ear, not slowing his hips in the slightest. He was well practiced at this.

“Are you going to cum, love?”

Hiccup grabbed at the back of one of Viggo’s thighs with one hand, dug his nails in. His whines were sweet to listen to.

“Wanna cum, wanna cum,” he panted out.

Viggo licked the curve of his ear. “You must say please.”

“Oh, please make me cum, Viggo!”

That was perfect. He’d yelled it and pleaded  _ and  _ said his name. He looked so willing to those who were watching or would see. He knew it was what he’d injected him with, but it still made him all hot inside to have him begging for him.

Viggo was sure he was stimulating his prostate. He had to be from the way Hiccup was leaking and practically sobbing. It wasn’t an uncommon reaction for men to cry with prostate stimulation. He’d seen it before from others, and from Hiccup it was just lovely. He was so hopeful that he’d climax without his cock being touched. It would be such a good way to ruin him. He’d look like such a slut for the enemy’s cock if he came by it. It made him want to laugh.

In about a minute Hiccup  _ was  _ climaxing from just this. He shouted and moaned and sobbed, legs shaking, passage clamping around Viggo. Gods it was so rewarding, felt so good. 

“Oh, yes, darling! That’s it!” He purposefully made his praise loud, wanted onlookers and passerby to know that Hiccup had reached his end for him. 

Once it was over, Hiccup was weakened, and Viggo had to wrap one arm around his middle and the other around his chest to keep him up. Hiccup yelled at the contact with his wound and his nipples. He didn’t struggle, but his grunts and moans took on a different tone, that of enduring rather than enjoying. Lust was seeping out of him, his mind coming back, but Viggo wasn’t finished yet. 

“Did you like that?”

Viggo heard the beginning of the word “no” on Hiccup’s lips, but then he simply didn’t speak. Well, that was better than an outright protest. 

Viggo groaned when he eventually finished in him. He felt like laughing, but that would probably reveal his plans to Hiccup, so he kept it in. He was sure to figure it out soon though.

He didn’t let go of him just yet though, shoved him roughly down onto his knees. He grabbed the back of his head and forced him towards where his own seed was glistening on the wall.

“Clean that up.”

Hiccup made to turn and look at him, probably in question, but Viggo held his head harder and kept him that way. He practically pushed his face into the substance. 

“Now.”

He watched as Hiccup’s tongue tentatively came out, lapped at a streak of cum. He wished he could see the face he made. He could feel him shaking under his hand. 

Viggo only pulled him up to stand once it was all gone, pleased with the humiliation that action had no doubt caused him. He yanked up Hiccup’s pants without even bothering to clean him off with anything. Let him walk around in his own shame. Hiccup turned to face him as he was putting himself away and buckling his belt. He was looking down at his bleeding right hand. There was a dark red blooming through his tunic and bandages. His shoulders were drooping and he was silent and subdued. 

Viggo put a finger under his chin and tipped his head up to make him look at him. 

“Better?”

Hiccup’s jaw tightened, his lips trembled, and his eyes were wet, but his response didn’t match the turmoil, which was what Viggo wanted.

“Yeah,” he got out hoarsely. 

“Good.” Viggo took him by the waist. “Come along then.”

  
  


Astrid had the Dragon Riders land behind an outcropping of rock on a sea stack within sight of Berk. They all dismounted rather tiredly, groaning, stretching. There had been almost no breaks on the flight and they were all sore and exhausted, but this was clearly urgent. They’d discussed use of the code for a massive emergency, but had never actually used it. It had felt like Astrid’s insides had hollowed out when she’d looked at the rushed drawing of a flame that was clearly from Hiccup. They’d left him on Berk to recover from pneumonia, and the last message they’d gotten from him had said that he was starting to feel better and that all was going well, but now there was this. She was weary with sleeplessness and nerves, as were the other Riders.

“Why aren’t we just heading right over?” Snotlout asked.

“We have to get a look first,” Astrid answered. “Not like we can wait for the cover of night. The Midnight Sun is almost over but that’s still a couple of days, and the darkness wouldn’t last long.”

Snotlout didn’t answer. Usually he’d have way too much confidence, but there were shadows under his eyes and his features were drawn with stress. 

Astrid waved her hand, and she and the other Riders approached the outcropping, got in position so that they could look over. It was hard to see details from here, but when she looked towards the docks she audibly gasped. That was an entire fleet of Dragon Hunter ships, and they mostly looked intact. They were just sitting there in the harbor like they were meant to be there.

“Fishlegs, give me your spyglass.” Her words came out rushed, and her right hand was shaky when she outstretched it. Crouched beside her, he dug through the pouch on his belt and handed it to her. 

The sight was not good when she put it to her eye. She saw ruined buildings and scorched earth. Fearful, worried beyond belief that Hiccup and Stoick were dead, she pointed it towards their house. It seemed intact, but that wasn’t much of an indication. She scanned the streets. It was hard to tell from here but she was sure she could see Dragon Hunters in uniform. Anger and determination burned in her blood. She stood, handing the spyglass back to Fishlegs.

“Okay, we have to get down there.”

“Astrid, are you crazy?” Heather asked incredulously from her left. “A few days ago you were so tired you were kissing dirt.”

Astrid’s face burned at the mention of that, but then recalled how all of them had been acting strange due to sleep deprivation. They’d gotten some sleep before getting the note and were mostly cognitively better, but Heather was right. They were still tired. It didn’t matter though.

“Yeah, and we haven’t really slept a whole lot,” Ruffnut chimed in. They were all standing now, moving into a circle to talk. “Nor have our dragons!”

Astrid looked around at all of them, biting her lip. Gods, they were all right, but Berk was under enemy occupation. Who knew what had happened to Hiccup and Stoick? And gods forbid their families? Everyone else? She looked out towards Berk, towards the enemy ships.

“We have to do  _ something _ .”

“We can fall back to Dragon Island and wait for Dagur and Mala,” Heather said.

Astrid started pacing. “But that could take forever! He has to go rally the Berserkers and take his place as chief back, and they don’t even fly dragons so they’ll have to come by ship, and so will the Defenders of the Wing. We… we don’t have that time.”

They all looked at her, at each other, and there was pain and desperation and worry on all of their faces, everything that she was feeling. One by one, they all nodded, and it felt good to have them by her side.

“Okay,” Heather said. “What’s your plan?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Sorry that I haven't updated in over a month. Believe me, I wanted to. I really love this story. I've just been dealing with a lot. I was told I'm most likely developing carpal tunnel syndrome, and I couldn't type for weeks because I'd been letting the symptoms go on too long without treating them. Both my hands were pretty much useless. They've been feeling much better now that I wear wrist braces every night and have been doing less with my hands. I see a doctor about it soon. I might not be able to type as much as I used to, which absolutely sucks, but it's better than no typing at all. Just figured I should let you all know. I have diabolical plans for this story that definitely don't include abandoning it.

The air split with an explosion and the ground shook. Surprised, Hiccup lost his footing, stumbled into Viggo. The man righted him, held him firmly by the upper arm. They both looked towards the commotion. To the eastern side of Berk, Hiccup saw flame and dragons in the sky. Six of them to be exact. The Riders had made it.

This didn’t fill him with hope though. Instead it made dread sink into his bones. Six Dragon Riders against an entire fleet of Hunters who had control of Berk’s defenses. Would they even put a dent in it?

Catapult fire, yelling, another explosion.

“Oh look.” Viggo sounded amused, and that didn’t help with how Hiccup was feeling. “Your friends are right on time.” Viggo began walking brusquely, dragging Hiccup alongside him. “They must have prepared quickly after getting your message.”

“You knew?” Hiccup asked in shock. There was chaos all around him. His people didn’t seem to know what to do. Fight alongside the Dragon Riders and risk loss, or go and hide in their homes?

“Of course I knew,” Viggo told him. “You’re not a very good liar, Hiccup.”

Hiccup’s mouth was dry. This meant that the Hunters had had time to prepare. His throat ached and his stomach clenched as he looked towards the battle. Would any of his friends make it out alive? He wanted so desperately to tell them to turn back and wait for reinforcements.

Some people nearby had apparently chosen to fight instead of hiding. They wielded their tools as weapons, turning on the Hunters that had been overseeing their work. Hiccup watched as a Hunter’s helmet was dented in with a hammer and he crashed to the ground. One man broke away from them, rushed at Viggo with his own hammer. It was nowhere near the size of a warhammer, meant instead for pounding in nails, but he came at him nonetheless. Viggo wasn’t wearing his sword, but he had a large dagger on him. He shoved Hiccup away, knocking him onto the ground, and met the man’s attack.

Hiccup tried rising but the recently reopened wound on his stomach prevented it, had him falling back onto his elbows. Gods, he wanted so badly to help, to take out Viggo here and now, but the pain from the way he had fucked him earlier didn’t help his mobility either. He could only watch as Viggo dodged the incoming hammer. Then he was rushing him, getting into close quarters. This hindered his attacker’s motion, and Viggo was able to grab his wrist and snap it, making the hammer fall from his fingers. As the man screamed and tried to stagger backwards, Viggo took him by the back of the neck and slit his throat, dousing the both of them in blood. The scream was cut off and the man crashed to his knees, gurgling, choking.

“ _No!_ ” Hiccup managed to scramble onto all fours, and as he tried to make his way over, the man looked at him, good hand held futilely over the gash in his throat. Hiccup saw the life go out of his eyes before he toppled to the ground.

“No, no, no!” He knew he was dead but he went to him nonetheless, clutched at his bloody tunic, tears blurring his vision.

Viggo took a rough hold of him, and suddenly he was flung right into a Hunter’s arms. A quick look around showed that the fight was over, that two lone survivors were down on their knees with their hands held over their heads. Hiccup saw the bodies and the blood, the sightless eyes. He sobbed, tried to wrench himself free, but then there was another Hunter taking him by the shoulder.

Viggo wiped his dagger clean on the tunic of the man he’d just killed, then sheathed it, looked to Hiccup who was still struggling.

“Take him to his house and chain him to his bed,” Viggo ordered. “The shackles are still there.”

“No, Viggo! _Wait!_ ” The last word came out as a shriek, Hiccup horrified and hurting from the deaths he’d just witnessed. Would he never stop watching his people die?

“You can’t be trusted, Hiccup,” Viggo told him. “You need some more breaking.”

“No! Stop this! Please!” Viggo gave a nod to the Hunters and they began to drag him away with him kicking and squirming despite the way his body hurt. “Don’t kill anyone! Please don’t kill anyone! Don’t kill my friends! _Please!_ ”

Grieving and terrified, Hiccup was sobbing as he was taken to his house. His people had cleared off the streets and now there were just Hunters rushing towards where the battle was. Hiccup’s struggles weakened, his wound screaming at him to not move. He couldn’t tell if his chest was hurting from the lingering sickness or if it was from the sheer agony of waiting for his friends to die.

As the men pulled him up the path towards his house, Hiccup screamed towards the sky, desperately hoping that he would be heard.

“ _Turn back! Turn back!_ ”

A big hand went over his mouth, muffling his next shout, and Hiccup tried to pull his head away but the hand stayed. He was too afraid to bite. Now silenced, completely helpless, Hiccup was forced into his house. It was empty, so the Hunters had no opposition as they yanked him up the stairs and threw him down onto his bed on his back. Hiccup gave up struggling, could only cry as they wrenched his arms up and secured the chains around his wrists.

He expected the Hunters to leave as soon as they’d finished that, but they didn’t. Hiccup eyed them suspiciously through his tears.

“D-don’t you have m-more murdering to get to?” he spat out to the best of his ability.

The men looked between each other. They wore smiles that Hiccup didn’t like. It was a struggle not to piss himself out of pure terror. His crying abruptly stopped, all color leaving his face. Thor, how his chest hurt.

“Well, the chief is going to be busy for a while.” The man who had spoken stepped forward, undoing his belt. “And you’re too pretty not to have a piece of.”

Hiccup thought of earlier, of how Viggo had told him he was too attractive to consider keeping his body to himself, or, as he’d said much more crudely, “have his holes filled.” Maybe he was right. Viggo was hardly the first person to want him for sex. Nor was he the last.

“Get away from me!” Hiccup shouted regardless of how helpless he was. He kicked out as the other man tried to straddle him. This resulted in his prosthetic being taken from him and flung away. It crashed into his desk and knocked over his cup of art supplies and had his sketchbooks falling to the floor.

Then the man punched him hard in the stomach. Hiccup choked, pain searing through him. His wound had stopped bleeding but he could feel it begin anew at the blow. The man got on him while he was incapacitated, undid his belt. One hand pressed into his wound, and all he could do was gasp, unable to find his breath. He rutted his cock against Hiccup’s still clothed and hardly erect one.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that beautiful mouth,” the other man said, taking his head and twisting it towards him. “Or my friend here is going to put you into a world of pain.”

Hiccup didn’t know what good it would do, but he screamed with all his might. Maybe someone would hear him, come and save him from this. It was a small hope, but he clung to it anyway, even as a hard cock was shoved into his mouth and his scream cut off.

His tunic was pushed up as the man began thrusting into his mouth. Hiccup gagged on him before remembering the trick Viggo had taught him. With nothing else to do, he tightly clenched his left thumb. The gagging stopped. He was still left with the feeling like he was about to, but at least now it didn’t happen. This man was hardly as big as Viggo though, which was a relief.

“Oh, pretty whore has his nipples pierced,” the man atop him commented. One hand on his hip, the other going up to pinch one, making Hiccup whimper and squirm. That hurt abominably after all the attention he’d received, had tears coming back into his eyes. “Must be new with how it hurts.”

Despite that observation, or maybe because of it, that man continued playing with his nipple. He tugged on the barbell and that had Hiccup releasing a muffled scream around the other man’s cock, who let out a moan.

Then there was a hand on him through his pants, squeezing, feeling. Hiccup jerked and yanked on his chains.

“Mm, the chief had the right idea putting you in these. They don’t hide a thing.”

_Stop it, stop it. Please stop._

Of course, they couldn’t hear his thoughts, and even if they could, they wouldn’t have listened to them. Men who were busy assaulting him wouldn’t listen.

The man buried himself deep in his mouth, Hiccup’s nose pressing into his pubic hair. Hiccup had been getting used to Viggo’s scent, had even liked it while drugged, but this man smelled awful. That was the only thing he was getting, no air making its way through. He began to hope that they would let him faint. His throat hurt and his chest heaved and burned.

Finally, he was released and allowed to breathe. As soon as he got his breath back, he was screaming again.

The door banged open below, and Hiccup actually started crying in relief. The men released him in time to face the stairs and be met with a raging Stoick.

The man that had been on top of him was sent to the floor before he could react, Stoick on top of him, grabbing his head. He twisted hard and there was a sickening snap, then awful gasping and choking noises as the man tried to breathe. The other, his cock thankfully put away, drew his sword and lunged at Stoick. He’d sensed it coming, drawing the sword of the dying man and rolling away. He got to his feet, standing across the Hunter with death and fury in his eyes.

They rushed at each other, met with swords clanging. Hiccup watched them battle in the small space in a hopeless panic. If his father was hurt or worse…

But he wasn’t. Stoick got the upperhand, rammed his shoulder hard into the Hunter. That threw him off balance, and while he was staggering back, Stoick drove the sword into his gut. The Hunter simply gasped, looked at the weapon in him, and then slid off of it and onto the floor with a heavy thud.

Hiccup didn’t know what to do. If he could do nothing to act against Viggo and his men without getting someone else hurt or killed, then surely Stoick couldn’t either.

He shook his head frantically, sobs bursting from his aching throat.

“You shouldn’t have s-saved me! You shouldn’t h-have saved me!”

Stoick dropped the bloodied sword, went over to the side of the bed. He began grappling with the chains around his wrists.

“No, no, just leave it!” Consequences would be even worse if Hiccup was free. He tried to pull his arms away, but he couldn’t get them very far. While doing so, he pushed his shirt down as far as he could, wanting to hide his piercings if his dad hadn’t seen them already. He found himself wishing life away in that instant. He didn’t want to see the consequences for this, didn’t want his dad seeing what had been done to his body.

“Hiccup…” Stoick said it softly. He sounded like he had more to say, but didn’t, maybe unsure. He straightened, looked around the room. His face paled as if he’d only now realized what he’d done. “I… I had to. I couldn’t let them…” He was at a loss. Hiccup didn’t envy his position. He was entirely unsure of what he himself would have done were he in it, what he would do now.

“I have to get rid of the bodies,” Stoick said. “Then clean the blood off the floor.” He looked down at his bloodied clothes, picked at his tunic. “And burn these.”

The house shook with the impact of the battle outside, the noise of it reaching them through the walls. In the middle of his assault and Stoick’s rescue, Hiccup had hardly noticed it. His breaths rushed and his blood seemed to be so cold with terror that it burned.

“Wh-what’s happening out there?” Hiccup was afraid to ask, but he had to know.

“I don’t think anyone’s been hit,” Stoick answered. “But they’re not really getting far.” He shook his head hopelessly. “I don’t know what to do. I want to fight back but-”

“Don’t think about that,” Hiccup told him. “Just hide the bodies.”

“Right.” Stoick nodded, tightened his jaw. “You’re right.” He looked at the corpses, went over to the one with the broken neck, and took it by the wrist. Then he was dragging it down the stairs with thumps that could hardly be heard over another blast. Hiccup was left with the other dead Hunter, and he made himself stare into his sightless eyes to confirm that he was really gone. He felt a cold and cruel satisfaction at it that was so unlike him, and he was frightened by it. He turned his head away and silently prayed that the smell of death wouldn’t linger.

  


“Was that Hiccup?!” Heather shouted to Astrid. The two were flying close, on each other’s wing, but they had to part to dodge dragon root arrows. They broke Astrid out of her reverie more than Heather’s shout had.

“Yeah!” Yes, that had most definitely been Hiccup. He had been dragged into his house kicking and screaming. There had been blood down the front of him, but it was impossible to tell whether or not it had been his own.

“He said something!” Heather called. “Did you get what it was?!”

“No!” Astrid shook her head. She wished she had. Whatever Hiccup had to say was valuable, especially at a time like this. She’d been so grateful to see him alive, but the blood on him had deepened the dread in her stomach.

At the beginning of the attack, some of Berk’s people had tried fighting. They didn’t have proper weapons though, were wielding what looked like mere tools. It had ended badly for those who hadn’t surrendered. Gods, how many of them had died in the three days they must have been occupied for? Was her family still alive? The families of the other Riders? Stoick, even?

They were outnumbered completely. They’d sent Terror Mail to both Dagur and Mala upon receiving Hiccup’s message, but it wouldn’t have made it to them yet, and with their forces having to come by ship, it would take weeks.

They couldn’t wait weeks. Berk was in danger _now_.

Holding tightly to Stormfly, Astrid dove for another pass with Heather at her side.

  


Stoick didn’t say a word to Hiccup as he cleaned the blood off the floor. His movements were rushed, panicked. Who knew when the attack would end, when Viggo would return? He had to hide all the evidence as quickly as possible.

And Hiccup just lay chained to his bed not sure what to do with himself. He’d tried sitting up, but he was hurting too badly. The battle was still raging and he could do nothing but wonder who was wounded and who had been killed.

But then again, maybe being killed was better than being captured. Hiccup wasn’t the only one who had been subject to rape and torment since the Dragon Hunters’ arrival. He wouldn’t want that for any of his friends. So maybe death was better.

They should have been retreating though. They shouldn’t have attacked in the first place. They knew how clearly outnumbered they were, how hopeless it all was without some sort of help. Why were they still attacking? Out of desperation maybe? Astrid could do reckless things when she was determined and angry. They all could.

  


Hiccup didn’t speak to him until he’d gone down to burn his clothes and come back up wearing clean ones. He hoped that if the smell of blood did linger in Hiccup’s room, that anyone would think it was from the way Hiccup was bleeding. He’d managed to clean the floor before a stain could set in the wood.

“What’d you do with them?” Hiccup asked.

“The sea took them,” Stoick answered. No one had seen him toss the bodies over a cliff. No one had bothered to look. He was filled with dread that such a hopeless battle was taking place, but at least it served as the perfect time to dispose of those he had killed. He prayed that no one would notice they were missing.

“No one saw you?”

“No one.” Stoick took the chair from Hiccup’s desk and pulled it over to the side of the bed. He’d brought up bandages, a cloth, and a bowl of water. His wrists hurt terribly from all the movement he was doing, and probably needed rebandaging as well, but he had to take care of Hiccup first. He’d bled through the bandages on his stomach, and there was a slash across the palm of his right hand that had trickled blood down his forearm. The scant white shirt Viggo had put him in was entirely ruined. That was alright. Stoick hated it. It was hardly a decent thing to be worn in public, almost entirely transparent, and Stoick knew Hiccup hated it too, especially with the way it showed the, well, piercings. He wondered when exactly Viggo had done that to him, and it made him angry. Neither of them could do anything to take them out though. “Can you sit up?”

Hiccup flushed red. “I need help.”

That made Stoick burn through with anger as well. Hiccup was in pain. That was Viggo’s fault too. Even if his men had roughed him up, they wouldn’t have been able to do so if Viggo hadn’t even brought them here.

Stoick put a hand under Hiccup’s back and helped him to slowly sit up. He groaned when he did. Stoick hoped he was only hurting from the wound in his stomach, but he doubted it. He wasn’t going to ask where else he was hurting. Besides, Hiccup wouldn’t tell him. They both knew what was happening, so he wished he would open up. He shouldn’t have to feel ashamed around him, or even at all. None of this was his fault. Though, Stoick didn’t know if he should bring up the piercings. Certainly Hiccup wouldn’t be comfortable with that, but he didn’t want him to have the extra stress of having to hide them from him, the worry of how he would react.

Stoick didn’t say anything about it at the moment, didn’t know exactly how to bring it up. Hiccup lifted his shirt for him, still hiding his chest, to let him begin to undo the bandages.

“How are the storehouses looking?” Hiccup asked. Berk still had enough food for themselves, even without any money, but it was now going quickly with the Hunters taking what they wanted for themselves. Stoick would have to talk with Viggo about a plan to replenish them. Surely he’d want to keep Berk from starving now that it was under his rule.

Stoick, of course, hadn’t checked them right after leaving Viggo and Hiccup. He’d gone to go vomit up everything that had been in his stomach, sickened by the entire situation, by the way Viggo had been touching Hiccup and talking. It had taken a lot of will to make himself leave the house again and go do what he’d said he would.

“Not good,” Stoick answered. And neither was Hiccup’s wound. He’d have to clean around it before bandaging it to even see where exactly it was. Hiccup laid down again, understanding this. “I have to talk to Viggo to work something out. We’ll be starving within three days if we don’t.”

Hiccup furrowed his brow at him. “What _is_ going on between you and Viggo? You obviously talked while I was asleep.”

Stoick tried not to think about that, about the way Viggo had been touching Hiccup during that conversation. He probably didn’t even know.

He blinked at him in confusion. “I left a note explaining it. Did you not see it?”

Hiccup shook his head, frustration on his face. “Viggo must have gotten rid of it. He was here when I woke up.”

“Dammit,” Stoick grumbled. “Well, he wants Berk under his rule, and he claimed he can’t get that to happen smoothly without me. He wants me to work with him.”

“And if you don’t, he kills you, right?” Hiccup asked.

Stoick nodded. “And others. I can’t step out of line without him hurting you or someone else.”

Hiccup looked in horror to where the bodies had been on the floor. “Dad, you should have-”

“No,” Stoick interrupted firmly. “I wasn’t going to let them assault you.”

There was fear swimming in Hiccup’s eyes when he looked back at him.

“What if he finds out?”

“Let’s just pray that he won’t.”

The house shook. Fire must have hit too close to it. Stoick wanted to be outside helping the fight, but he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do anything useful accept take care of Hiccup. He figured this arrangement was going to make him go mad with frustration and guilt. But if anyone was hurt or killed because of him… He would just have to figure something out.

Stoick felt stupid asking it while cleaning up Hiccup’s blood, but he couldn’t help it. “How are you feeling?” Now at least maybe he would get a genuine answer because he was asking while Viggo wasn’t around.

“Scared, frustrated, angry,” Hiccup responded. “I…” He turned his head away. “He’s breaking me, dad.”

Stoick knew he was. The way Hiccup had acted yesterday was nothing like him, so docile and frightened. He couldn’t blame Hiccup of course. Someone weaker would have given in already, what with all Viggo had done to him personally, and had had done to him by other people. He thought with bile burning in his throat of how Viggo had said he’d let multiple men take him.

And there was another truth.

“Me too, son. Me too.”

There was solidarity in that, almost comfort somehow. Silence followed save for when Hiccup would wince. Then Stoick helped him sit up again and bandaged the wound. After, he went around the side of his bed to take care of Hiccup’s hand.

“How’d you get this?” he asked curiously.

Hiccup turned red again, and for an instant, Stoick’s mind took the color and made him see blood all over his face, like he had yesterday. It was gone in an instant, and he was able to focus on what he was doing.

“Viggo’s belt.” Hiccup’s voice was small, embarrassed. “He… He made me,” he went on. “He’s been drugging me.” Stoick could hear the ache in his throat. The house shook again. The battle continued outside. There were tears in his son’s eyes. “It’s not my _fault_.” His voice cracked.

“I know that, Hiccup.” Stoick laid his other hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to justify anything to me.”

“I-I don’t know that.” Stoick met his gaze. It made his heart break. “H-he makes me want it, a-and maybe I do. M-Maybe I’m just a- just a whore.”

Stoick didn’t say anything as he finished bandaging Hiccup’s palm. Then he sat down beside him on the bed.

“No, Hiccup, you’re not. It’s out of your control.”

“What if i-it isn’t?” Hiccup asked desperately.

“Hiccup, look,” Stoick started. “He’s drugging you. That’s certainly not your fault. He’s giving you things to make you want it. And even if he wasn’t, bodies are strange. They don’t always connect with the mind. Your mind knows who’s doing this and wants nothing to do with it, but your body doesn’t know that. To your body, touch is touch. It doesn’t matter who’s doing it.”

“But-”

“Let me put it this way,” Stoick interrupted. He wanted to quell any of Hiccup’s protests, didn’t want him thinking this was his fault. “If Viggo gave you a back massage, would it still feel good?”

Hiccup looked down for a moment, sucked in his lower lip as he thought. “Yeah...? I wouldn’t want it, but yeah, I guess it would.”

“So just apply that thinking to when he touches you anywhere else. Besides, not exactly like us men can control when and where we get an erection, now can we?”

Hiccup shrugged. “I guess not.”

“I can tell you my most embarrassing one.” Stoick hoped Hiccup would laugh at it. It was so long ago that he could too.

Hiccup looked at him expectantly, showing that he had his attention.

“I was thirteen,” Stoick told him. “My father wanted me to sit in at an audience with him to see some of what was done as a chief. Naturally I didn’t want to do something so boring, but he dragged me along.”

A small smile crept onto Hiccup’s face. “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh indeed.” Stoick smiled too. “Well, this woman walks in to complain about something. Gods know I had no clue what it was. She had a bosom like you wouldn’t believe. Thirteen year-old me was just discovering sexuality and that women were attractive, so I couldn’t help looking. So then there I am up on the dais for all to see with an erection over someone who could have been my mother. I ran out to hide right after she left.”

Hiccup laughed uproariously. Maybe the story didn’t warrant such a loud laugh, or maybe it did, but Hiccup clearly needed it. Stoick laughed too. Everything felt normal for just a moment.

“See?” Stoick added. “We can’t control that!”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Hiccup put a hand to his stomach, the laughter clearly upsetting the wound, but he was still smiling. “Thanks, dad.”

In the silence that followed they could hear the fighting, and their smiles perished.

“I don’t know why they haven’t retreated,” Hiccup said after many minutes. He paused, inhaled shakily. “I-I don’t want anyone to…” He couldn’t finish, a choked sob escaping him.

Stoick took his good hand. He didn’t know what to do but stay with Hiccup during this, keep him safe while he was chained and helpless. He wasn’t chained, but he was helpless too. Right now, they just had each other.

He couldn’t say anything to that. He couldn’t tell Hiccup that his friends would be fine, that no one would be killed. He couldn’t even tell Hiccup that they themselves would be fine. As far as he knew, nothing would be fine, never would be again. He could lie to Gothi and he could lie to Gobber, but he couldn’t lie to his son who surely knew the same thing. This wasn’t something that he could tell him would be okay, would turn out alright in the end.  For all they knew, it wouldn’t.


	13. Chapter 13

The hours dragged with the sounds of the battle outside. Each second felt as long as a minute as Stoick sat there on Hiccup’s bed, unable to do anything to help. He wanted to go outside, but then he would be leaving Hiccup defenseless. At least here he was doing something. He was protecting his son. He’d stashed away the sword he’d taken from the first Hunter he’d killed, but he had a knife hidden in his boot. There was no way he wasn’t going to carry a weapon on him at a time like this. He just couldn’t let it be seen.

Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they sat and listened with dread coiling their stomachs and tears on their faces.

Then it was over. Silence.

But still they waited.

Five minutes. Ten. A whole half hour. Nothing else. It was done.

“Dad, you should go out and check,” Hiccup said hoarsely.

Stoick shook his head. He was dying to know what had happened, but his priorities were clear.

“I’m not leaving you here defenseless.”

“I’ll be…” Hiccup tilted his head away, averted his gaze, “fine.”

“What if other Hunters come up here?” Stoick questioned. He wasn’t sure how far they’d gotten in assaulting Hiccup. His pants had luckily still been on and in place, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t touched him in intimate places… or used his mouth…

“They won’t.” Hiccup didn’t sound so sure. “The only reason these two were was because Viggo ordered them to chain me up.”

“And what if  _ he _ comes up here?”

“Like there’s anything I can do about that,” Hiccup said glumly, having accepted his fate. Because Viggo would come here to see Hiccup. They both knew it.

Stoick reached down, took the knife from his boot, held it out to Hiccup. Hiccup looked at it, then at him, eyes wide with shock.

“I can’t! I… What if I mess up or he overpowers me? Or-or even if I did kill him, the repercussions would be…” Hiccup shuddered, and Stoick realized he was right. Weapons or not, they were all quite trapped.

Stoick sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He slipped it back into his boot. “I’m just going nuts without being able to do anything.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

They sat in silence for a moment, probably both pondering what it would be like if they were able to fight back. Stoick sure was. That’s all he wanted to do. He wasn’t used to just taking orders, and he most definitely wasn’t used to sitting by when people were being hurt. 

“But you should go out there,” Hiccup said. “Find out what happened.”

He figured Hiccup was right. There was nothing he could do here. He’d killed earlier, but there was no way he could do it again. He didn’t know if he would get away with the two kills, and he certainly wouldn’t get away with more.

“Okay.” Stoick stood, patted Hiccup on the knee. “I’ll tell you what I find.”

Hiccup looked him very seriously in the eye. “And no lying to spare my feelings.”

Stoick nodded. He knew what had happened couldn’t have been good, not if they were still here. Or maybe the Riders had retreated to go get help. That was the best outcome he could hope for. The worst, well… they both knew the worst. He prayed to the gods, particularly Freya and Holler, that it wasn’t that.

It was hard leaving. Stoick made sure not to look at Hiccup, because then he would just focus on the blood on his shirt and the chains on his wrists. He heavily descended the stairs and stepped out into the orange light of the setting sun. The sun wouldn’t truly set, would only touch the tip of the horizon before lifting back up, but at least it was growing closer to when it would set. Stoick was sick of the Midnight Sun. He was sure that everybody was.

The village looked the same. The Riders had tried to keep the fighting outside of it, only aiming for the defenses. Stoick started heading towards those. The farther from the village he got, the more scorched the ground was. The air was acrid with smoke. 

There were Hunters here and there, lingering, and there was blood on the ground. An entire watchtower had collapsed, and men were busy pulling out stones. Stoick saw a pale, bloodied hand reaching out from it, and he felt grim satisfaction. He wasn’t sure what had happened to the Riders, but they had killed some Hunters.

Stoick bravely approached one of the Hunters working on the watchtower. Only way to figure this out was to ask.

“What was the outcome of the battle?” He could only be blunt about it.

The Hunters paused in removing the rubble and looked over at him. One snorted.

“Oh, look, it’s the useless chief.”

The jab hurt because it was true, but Stoick ignored it. “What was the outcome?”

The Hunters didn’t answer. They went back to their work like he wasn’t even there. Puzzled, Stoick moved on.

No one would talk to him. If they did it was just insults towards him and horrible jabs about Hiccup. He was shoved and hit, and everything in him burned to strike back, to drag someone behind a building and beat them till they gave him an answer, but he could do nothing but take it. Every time he thought of defiance he smelled blood.

The sun was rising in the sky when Stoick made his way towards the Mead Hall. Maybe there would be someone important in there that he could talk to. The last person he wanted to see was Viggo. The second to last was Ryker. He would go with Ryker. There was a Hunter sitting outside on the steps having a drink.

“Where’s Ryker?” Stoick demanded. He wasn’t chief anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be straightforward about what he wanted.

“Inside. Trying to sort stuff out with some generals. Don’t think he’d take too kindly to being interrupted.”

Stoick grunted, ignoring that last bit, and forced himself to go inside. It made his chest feel like it was being crushed, his ribcage cracked, the air squeezed out of him. His breaths came fast and for a moment he couldn’t quite see, and he had to lean on the doorframe to remain upright. He hoped no one was watching him.

He made himself look around the hall, still using the doorframe as support. The blood had been cleaned and the damage fixed. It looked relatively the same if a bit scuffed up. 

But his throne was gone.

In its place sat the most horrific thing he’d ever seen. The wood of the throne was black and shining, inlaid with threads of gold, its cushioning a deep, dark red. Bones that Stoick hoped were dragon and not human coiled around the arms and legs, and the legs ended in a boned foot and gold talons. Leathery wings, black like a Night Fury’s, sprouted from the back of the grotesque thing to curl around it. They couldn’t really be a Night Fury’s though. They were too small. Unless these had belonged to an adolescent… The back of the throne was tall, taller than a human head, and atop it were fixed three skulls stained with blood. Placed in the middle and staring him down with eyeless sockets was the imposing skull of a Monstrous Nightmare. On the right and looking that way was a Zippleback skull. Keeping watch to the left of the throne was the skull of a Deadly Nadder. It made Stoick pulse with horror and then rage. What had they done to his throne? Had they simply discarded it in a corner, or had they burned it? Or perhaps they were waiting to burn it in front of him. That seemed much more like the Grimborn brothers, especially since one of them saw it fit to have such a monstrosity as a throne.

Bile burned in his throat when he was able to draw his attention away from the throne. The table Hiccup had been raped on. All the tables in the hall looked relatively the same, but he knew this one. It was in the same place. There were spots of blood on it while everything else was clean. The neglect was purposeful.

Stoick tried to stand upright, but dizziness took him and he nearly fell. He gripped the doorframe again. No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t go in there. Not of his own volition.

Ryker was in fact in the Mead Hall like the Hunter had said, at a table with a group of other men. It seemed that the Grimborns didn’t keep women in their army. Lucky for Berk, he supposed, or none of them would be alive.

Taking deep breaths, Stoick straightened. He looked towards Ryker, closing off his vision to the rest of the hall.

“Ryker!” he called to get his attention. The man looked up. He had a strange mix of a smirk and a sneer on his face when he saw him, like he was amused and irritated at the same time, which he probably was. “Can we talk outside?”

Stoick expected to be denied. There was no reason that the new chief’s brother had to talk to him. None at all.

But then Ryker stood, and that was his answer. He would talk to him.

Ryker met him out in front of the steps. Stoick could breathe easier outside the crushing weight of the Mead Hall. It had felt like the entire peak had been pressing on him.

“You’ve got quite the nerve,” Ryker commented, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re interrupting something pretty important, and we’re all tired.”

It  _ was  _ technically night time, and there had been fighting, so exhaustion was probably the better word, but Stoick needed information  _ now. _

“I need to know what happened with the battle.”

“And whose side are you rootin’ for?”

“You know which,” Stoick said, though that could be dangerous. “Just tell me.”

“Well, wasn’t really conclusive,” Ryker answered with a shrug.

“Wasn’t  _ conclusive? _ ” That was hardly an answer. Maybe Stoick should just ask if any of the Riders had died, though the potential answer scared him.

Ryker spread his arms. “Does it look like it was?”

“You’re not telling me anything.”

Ryker turned to go back into the hall. “Ah, you’ll find out eventually.”

Stoick had the urge to follow him, but he couldn’t step foot into that building.

“ _ What? _ ”

Ryker gave him no answer, and the door shut behind him.

  
  


Hiccup didn’t bother calling out when the door opened. He would know who it was soon enough by the footsteps.

He was surprised to find that there were two sets of them, and the hit and scrape of a staff, but then he recognized it as Viggo and Gothi. Apparently he finally saw it fit for him to receive medical attention. Hiccup didn’t like that though. There were Berkians that had been injured. Surely they were more important for her to attend to than him, but of course Viggo was okay with dragging her away from that to tend to him. When it came to people, Viggo only seemed to have a mind for him.

Viggo came up first, Gothi trailing behind him with some difficulty. Hiccup glowered at him.

“What happened?”

Viggo waved a hand dismissively, as if nothing that had occurred was of import. “You’ll find out tomorrow.”

“I want to find out  _ now _ .”

Viggo withdrew a key from a pouch on his belt, leaned over to unlock Hiccup’s cuffs. “Is that a demand, Hiccup? You’re not really in the place to be making those.”

Hiccup didn’t care. He rubbed at his wrists once they became freed. The frequent use of chains was leaving marks on him. 

“I need to know.”

“No. You need to be quiet unless spoken to, and let Gothi attend to you.” Viggo sat in the chair Stoick had vacated as Gothi came around the bed. 

Hiccup glanced at Gothi as she set her things on the bed. He realized he would have to remove his shirt, and he very much didn’t want to. Though, he wasn’t in the mood for Viggo taking it off of him, and it was covered in blood anyway, so he removed it. Gothi frowned at his piercings.

Viggo took it from his hands before he could toss it on the floor, looked it over. “Hm, there’ll be no getting the blood out of this.”

Hiccup wanted to tell him that was his fault, but he hadn’t been spoken to directly, so he stayed quiet.

Viggo sighed, tossed the ruined clothing aside. “It’s no matter, I suppose. I can have a new one made for you.”

_ But I didn’t like that one. _

Gothi poked Hiccup in the side, so he raised his arms to let her undo his bandages. When they came off and revealed the wound, she glared at Viggo, looking like she wanted to hit him over the head with the staff she’d rested against Hiccup’s desk. Viggo returned the glare.

“My healers can tend to people without judgement,” Viggo told her coldly. “I could get one of them, but then you wouldn’t trust the care he was being given.”

“Well, you clearly don’t know Gothi,” Hiccup said. He risked shooting Viggo his own glare, given that he was the one who had caused the pain he was in. He didn’t notice it, or didn’t say anything if he did.

Gothi pressed on Hiccup’s shoulder to have him lay down. He just looked at the ceiling, not wanting to see Viggo or the wound in his stomach. He figured she was going to disinfect it and then stitch it up. That was going to hurt.

Hiccup could almost feel Viggo smiling before he spoke. “How do  _ you _ think the battle turned out?”

Hiccup had to swallow down the lump in his throat. His chest hurt. “I… I don’t know…” He had ideas, but he didn’t want to say. Nothing good could have happened if he was still trapped here. A retreat could have been the best outcome.

“Surely you have ideas.”

“P-please don’t make me say it.”

Shuffling, the clink of jars, the unscrewing of a bottle. There was only a moment before Hiccup felt the disinfectant pour onto his wound. He jolted, let out a pained yell. Saying it stung would be an underestimate. He clutched at his blanket, gritted his teeth, blinking tears from his eyes.

“Gods  _ dammit _ ,” he groaned at the burning. He gasped as Gothi put a cloth to him to clean up the wound, and then drew in another sharp intake of breath as Viggo’s hand crept into his hair. He angrily turned his head away. He wanted to tell him not to touch him, but what was the point? And he’d been told not to speak unless spoken to. He hoped that that wouldn’t be a rule that stuck.

“Tell me what you think happened.”

“I think…” A sob clogged up Hiccup’s throat. His tears fell. “I think they’re dead. I-I think you killed them.”

Viggo continued stroking his hair and his neck. It was not at all comforting. “My dear, if anyone was killed, it was not by my hand.”

“Still your fault.”

Hiccup tried to keep in his sobs. He looked to the wall above his desk, the pictures and diagrams he had hanging there. One for Toothless’ tail fin, an easy go-to for repairs or new ones, drawings of Toothless as well. He had drawings of his friends, but he kept those in his sketchbook.

He couldn’t smile looking at the picture of Toothless. He wanted to see him for real, not just stare at lines on a page that resembled him. His chest was being hammered at consistently now with the thoughts of Toothless and what could have possibly happened to his friends. He closed his eyes. Better to not look at anything then.

Gothi wasn’t gentle about her stitching. She just did what had to be done without a gesture of comfort, which was very much like her. And it wasn’t like Viggo’s hand was a source of comfort either. Hiccup was glad when it was done. She washed around the wound and then had him sit up so she could put fresh bandages on it. Then she inspected his face and the cut there from being slapped, and his hand. The wound on his hand was worse than Hiccup had at first thought, and it also needed disinfecting and stitches. He was throbbing and stinging by the time she was finished and Viggo gave her leave.

Viggo took Hiccup’s injured right hand, stroked carefully over his bandaged palm and then his fingers. He made a small sound of amusement.

“Now this one is your fault. So eager to get to me that you cut yourself.”

“No, also your fault,” Hiccup argued. He narrowed his eyes at him. “You drugged me, remember?”

Viggo hooked a finger under the front of Hiccup’s collar, pulled so that he was leaning forward and close to him. The proximity had Hiccup’s heart pounding, his breaths rushing.

“But you like it when I do.”

Hiccup wanted to argue, but realized that there was no point, so he pursed his lips together, gave Viggo a hard stare. He was just going to turn everything around on him.

He couldn’t hold his gaze for long though. It was too dark in his eyes, too cold and cruel and terrifying. He just looked down instead, deferring to him. Viggo had never said anything about not being allowed to look him in the eye - in fact, Hiccup figured he liked it when he did - but he was still afraid of getting into trouble. What would Viggo see as taking it too far?

Viggo moved in and kissed him, which Hiccup had expected, so he just closed his eyes and took it. He opened his mouth, and Hiccup knew that he had no choice but to follow. As soon as he did, his tongue slid inside, warm and… good. Hiccup sighed into him, unable to help it. There was more tugging on his collar, and he was forced off of the bed and onto Viggo’s lap. Even as lust began to spark in his body, he hoped that Viggo didn’t plan on doing anything sexual. He was hurting and tired, and beyond agonized over what had gone on that day. He couldn’t believe he was being forced to kiss the man that had possibly killed his friends.

One of Viggo’s hands moved to his back to support him, the other going up to cup his cheek. It was an odd gesture from him, a romantic one. Hiccup had one arm slung over him and the other on his chest, having no choice but to touch him if he didn’t want to lose his balance. Straddling him would be easier if he had his prosthetic, which was still lying on the other side of the room.

Hiccup pushed on his chest a little, pulled his head away. 

“What do you want from me?” Better to get right down to it.

“Just this,” Viggo told him, stroking his face. “I’ve had a long day.”

Hiccup snorted, wanted to tell him that he had too, but then he squinted a little. 

“I always took kissing to be more romantic,” he told him honestly. “And you’re not romantic at all.”

“Not even a little bit?” Viggo pouted a little, and Hiccup hated how enticing that made his mouth look. “Nothing romantic about meeting with my favorite game in a field of flowers?”

“That was a strategy meeting.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be both.” Viggo took him by the chin, pulled him close, his lips less than an inch from his, his breath hot on his face. Hiccup hated the way it made him tingle. “Besides, I like kissing. Am I not allowed to do it simply because it feels good?” He brushed his lips lightly over Hiccup’s, pulled away just a little, leaving his mouth parted. Something about all of it had Hiccup all hot inside. He hesitantly moved forward and put his lips to Viggo’s. It was what the man wanted anyway. And maybe at the moment, it was what Hiccup wanted too. The desire was awful and he tried his best not to blame himself for it, but the guilt surged up nonetheless.

The kiss started light, but quickly grew hard and passionate. It was passion from Viggo. Passion didn’t always mean love. It was hard for Hiccup to pinpoint exactly what Viggo felt for him. Attraction, surely. Intrigue as well, but certainly not love, right? The passion was coming from the other feelings.

Hiccup moved the hand from Viggo’s chest to grasp at his short hair as he practically swallowed his tongue. He couldn’t choose what he would rather have in his mouth, Viggo’s tongue or his cock. In the end, he just decided that both were deplorable and nothing was better than the other. That didn’t stop Hiccup from moaning longingly into his mouth, or from admitting that this really did feel good. He hadn’t realized that making out was something that could bring such pleasure. Though, he’d never done it with anyone until Viggo.

Hiccup was hot everywhere, a groan rising from his throat. His heart was beating fast, his blood pounding, need tracing through his veins. He clutched Viggo hard when a hand landed between his legs, massaging him through his pants.

“Do you want me to get you off?” Viggo asked quietly.

That pulled Hiccup from the veil of lust, and he hurriedly moved off of Viggo before thinking of the consequences, and sat on his bad. He yanked his blanket over his lap to cover his erection, panting, face flushed.

“I’m fine,” Hiccup got out quickly. He didn’t want Viggo touching him there, didn’t want to lose again by orgasming from him. He tried to swallow but his throat was dry.

Viggo moved onto the bed next to him, stuck a hand under the blanket to grasp at him through his pants. He leaned in and kissed his ear. “Are you sure?”

Hiccup moaned. He’d been sure a moment ago, but now he wasn’t. Viggo’s hand there felt excellent. Besides, would Viggo even listen to him if he said no again? Was he allowed to say no twice?

“Mm, your body’s insatiable,” Viggo purred, tugging on his ear with his teeth, making the heat in Hiccup spark hotter. He shifted, and with his other hand took Hiccup by the jaw and made him face him, put his lips back to his. Hiccup couldn’t help it and bucked into his hand. Viggo took that as a sign to pull him free from his pants, and Hiccup moaned loudly around his tongue. His touch was slow and firm, erotic as all Hel. Hiccup twisted his body and clutched at Viggo’s shoulders, whimpering with need. It had made his thoughts completely incoherent. He was slick with precum and it made Viggo’s touch all the better.

After some time Hiccup couldn’t kiss anymore, couldn’t find his breath. He pulled away, a whine on every harsh breath. Viggo licked his lower lip, and that made him tremble.

“You’re close,” Viggo told him lowly, knowing how his body worked now, what his reactions were.

Hiccup nodded though it hadn’t been a question, hooked his fingers into the curve of his breastplate so that he had something to hold onto.

His climax had him arching his back and his ears ringing. He wasn’t even sure what sound he’d made. It shoved him into a place of buzzing and bliss where he was unaware of what was going on. He came back down from it breathing hard, Viggo kissing his face.

“There’s a good boy.” Viggo took his own cum-slathered hand, met Hiccup in the eye as he licked at it. If Hiccup hadn’t just orgasmed he would have found that very arousing. 

Thought and feeling rushed back into him, and Hiccup let go of Viggo, cheeks burning, shame boring through his stomach. He said nothing though, let Viggo scoop up the cum that had landed on his stomach and lick that off his fingers too. Then he was putting Hiccup back into his pants.

“Now, I left your dinner downstairs for you,” Viggo said as if nothing like this had just occurred. “And there will be guards at the door. I can’t have you wandering around and possibly ruining tomorrow’s surprise.”

“Surprise?” Hiccup asked hoarsely, not liking the sound of that.

Viggo poked him on the nose, but somehow it served as a gesture telling him to shut up about it. “Tomorrow,” he simply said, and then he rose and was leaving. 

The door opened as he was on the stairs.

“Ah, Stoick. Just the man I wanted to see.”

The door slammed.

“ _ What? _ ” Stoick sounded quite unhappy. What had he discovered?

Viggo went the rest of the way down the stairs. Hiccup was just listening.

“There were two soldiers that brought Hiccup here this afternoon.” Hiccup felt like he’d been punched in the gut and he suddenly couldn’t breathe. “Haven’t seen them since though.”

“And?”

“I was wondering if you’d happened to spot them.”

“No.” Stoick’s voice was firm. “They had left by the time I got here.”

“Hm. Well, we are still taking stock after the battle.” The door opened. “Have a good night,” he said, somehow cheerfully. Then the door closed and it was just Hiccup and Stoick.

Earlier, Hiccup had just wanted to sit on his bed and mope, hadn’t been planning on eating, but now that his dad was home he felt differently. He rushed to get his prosthetic back on and put on a clean shirt. He was glad it was one of his own. Once done with that, he hurried down the stairs.

“Dad, what did you find?” Stoick was making sparks with flint to light the fire in the center of the room. They caught and flames flickered to life, giving off dancing light and warmth.

Stoick shook his head, sat down at the table. There was a tray across from him, and Hiccup’s stomach rumbled. He went to go sit, dread making his movements small, like if he made too loud a noise something bad would happen.

“Nothing,” Stoick told him.

“What?” Hiccup had expected something absolutely horrible from the way his father looked. Granted, nothing wasn’t good either. 

“I found nothing,” Stoick said tiredly. He rubbed his face. There were shadows under his eyes, and the lines in his face looked deeper. “And no one would tell me anything either.”

Hiccup was stumped by that. Why was no one telling them anything? What surprise did Viggo have in mind? What was going  _ on? _ He wanted desperately to ask his dad these questions, but he wouldn’t have the answers to any of them.

“Do you think maybe the Riders retreated and everyone is playing it up to scare us?” Hiccup asked hopefully. He looked at his plate. Salmon, oysters, and asparagus. Of course there was red wine in the cup. Hiccup wasn’t going to waste the food, not with how little they had, even if it was being used to turn his body into something he didn’t like, but the wine could go. He pushed it aside, rose to get some water from the barrel of it they kept in the corner. When he returned, Stoick was drinking it.

“I don’t know.”

There was silence for a while in which Hiccup ate, and watched his dad sip what had been his wine. He gestured to the empty spot on the table before him with his fork.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“You eat, son. I’m not hungry.”

“But…” Hiccup trailed off, realizing there was no point. He wanted to point out that Stoick really should eat, especially after having been starved, but whether or not Stoick was hungry, he wouldn’t eat at the moment given that there was a shortage.

Hiccup moved a bit of asparagus around on his plate with a fork.

“Viggo’s taken control of my diet too,” he told him dismally. “Only giving me foods that work as aphrodisiacs.”

Stoick shook his head, looking angry, but exhausted. “That sick bastard.”

“Do you think he knows?” Hiccup asked.

“Knows what?”

“That you…” He looked towards the door that would now be guarded. “That you killed those Hunters,” he whispered.

“No. He probably just thinks they went missing or died in the battle.”

“I sure hope so.” Both of them knew how dire the consequences were if Viggo found out that Stoick had killed them.

The rest of Hiccup’s dinner was spent in silence, and then he went up to his room, feeling drained. He shoved at the chains so they hung off the side of his bed. They were still attached. Of course Viggo would want to keep them that way. He was just happy that he would get to sleep without them, and in his own bed.

But as he lay there, thoughts of the guards coming in rushed into his mind. They’d come up the stairs quietly, gag him so he couldn’t scream, and assault him while Stoick was sleeping. Even had he been awake there would be nothing he could do to protect him. Hiccup shuddered, pulled his blanket up over his ear. Then he reached for his headboard, pulled down the stuffed dragon toy that he kept there. His mom had made it for him. He’d almost never actually cuddled it before, having only found it when he was fifteen, but now he desperately felt like he needed to. He clutched it to his chest and buried his nose to it, breathing in its old scent. He knew it wasn’t what his mother smelled like, that it had spent much too long in a chest and lost, but he let it comfort him anyway. He would take anything he could get at the moment. He had nothing else.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some serious Hiccup humiliation.

Hiccup woke in chains. He moaned tiredly in distress, pulled on them weakly.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up,” came Viggo’s voice from beside the bed. It woke Hiccup up more, and he took stock of his situation as his senses came back to him. He was on his back and completely naked. He had his prosthetic, but his legs had been tied down with rope, and same with his hips. He was almost completely immobile. He looked down at himself, beginning to fill with panic, which easily chased the sleep away. Then he looked to Viggo, wide-eyed. He was sitting in the chair beside his bed.

“D-do you plan on torturing me?” Hiccup asked.

“Depends on how you view what I do to you.”

“Torture,” Hiccup answered hoarsely.

Viggo shrugged, then smiled with his teeth. It was a dangerous look that made it seem like he was threatening to rip out his throat with them. “And I find pleasure in your suffering.”

Hiccup wanted to tell him he was disgusting, but he was pretty sure he’d done that already. There wasn’t anything good to say to him. He noticed that the rope had come from the hook on his wall. He kept it for dragon training purposes, though he hardly ever had to use it. The toy he’d fallen asleep with was on his desk and one of his sketchbooks was open. Viggo had been going through his things.

The Hunter chief took notice of his gaze. A short laugh left him. 

“I thought it amusing to find you sleeping with a toy at your age.”

Hiccup wasn’t going to tell him his mother had made it, but he at least gave him a glare. “I need  _ some _ sort of comfort.”

Oh gods, Viggo was pulling on leather gloves. Hiccup looked away, swallowing hard. He hated how he reacted to those.

“Maybe someday I can be that comfort.”

“You couldn’t comfort a downed tree,” Hiccup snapped at him. He closed his eyes as Viggo touched him. He was just gently running fingers over his abdomen above his bandages. Something about the touch of the leather felt so good, better than naked skin. Hiccup’s breaths began to heave. He bit his lip to hold in a moan. He wasn’t even really being touched sexually, but about half a minute of this and he was beginning to get hard.

“ _ Aww… _ ”

Viggo hummed. “Glad I found this kink of yours. Makes things more fun.”

“K-kink?” Hiccup couldn’t help asking. He hadn’t heard the word used in this context before.

“A sexual taste that deviates from the norm,” Viggo explained to him. “Do you have more? Is that why you keep the rope?” He was touching his thighs, skirting around his cock, then back up over his abdomen to his chest. He briefly took ahold of his neck, not tight enough to choke him, but tight enough to communicate his dominance. It had Hiccup gasping.

“N-no. Dragon training,” was all Hiccup was capable of saying. Hopefully Viggo would know what he meant.

“I see. Well, I have quite a lot of kinks,” Viggo told him. “Maybe you’ll have some more or you’ll grow to like mine.”

Hiccup didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know how he  _ could  _ grow to genuinely like the things Viggo did to him.

He hated asking it at a time like this, but: “Where’s m-my dad?”

“Asleep downstairs.”

_ Fuck.  _ He almost said it out loud, but he didn’t want Viggo thinking it was an exclamation of pleasure. That meant he should try his best to stay quiet. He hated how Viggo had slipped in, taken his clothes, gone through his things, and restrained him, all while his father was asleep, and now he was doing this to him.

“What do you- do you plan on doing?”

“You’ll see.” There was a teasing note in his voice.

But for now Viggo didn’t touch him in anyway that could be considered too sexual, but the touch of leather on Hiccup’s skin had him burning with need and pleasure. He was moaning softly now, tugging a little on his restraints.

“Mm, beautiful to see you in pleasure like that.” Viggo drew his hands away, and Hiccup found himself whining without meaning to. He didn’t look at Viggo, not wanting him to think he was desperate for it, though the whine and the way he was reacting had already surely done that.

Viggo’s hands came back, this time the leather gloves coated in oil that smelled of a homely spice. It was a good scent, and now it was being rubbed into his skin, avoiding his bandages. He knew it was the aphrodisiac oil though, so even as his body reacted kindly to it, he didn’t want it.

It felt good to have oil gently rubbed over his stomach and chest. He began leaking precum as Viggo carefully circled his sore nipples, gave a cry and arched when he lightly pinched them.

“Oh fuck.” He hadn’t even touched his cock and he was in ecstasy. But oh, he very much wanted his touch there.

Viggo didn’t focus too much on his nipples, which Hiccup was grateful for, as they were hurting from being pierced so recently, and from the way those men had pulled at them yesterday. He hoped Viggo hadn’t figured out what Stoick had done to them. He wasn’t bringing it up though, and hopefully he wouldn’t after.

“What’s this…  _ aghh _ \- surprise?” Hiccup got out. He doubted this was it.

“You’ll see,” Viggo said again. He definitely liked keeping things from him.

Hiccup moaned wantonly and arched into Viggo’s hands as he kept caressing him. His cock was throbbing and desperate.

Viggo kept this up for many minutes, didn’t touch Hiccup’s cock until he was whimpering desperately and the word “please” had left his lips. Hiccup moaned loudly, shuddered, eyes rolling back, as he took him firmly in two hands. 

“Oh yes,” he gasped out, forgetting that he didn’t want this in just how badly his body did. “Yes, yes yes.”

Viggo’s movements were slow, but lovely. He touched him everywhere on his cock, his balls. Hiccup tried moving into it but the ropes held firmly.

He gasped when Viggo thumbed his slit. He looked to him, questioning, and Viggo just smiled at him. It wasn’t a reassuring look.

“What are you getting?” Hiccup panted as Viggo removed his hands, reached for something in the satchel by him on the floor. Viggo didn’t answer, just held up a string of pearl beads. Hiccup looked at it oddly, not sure what he planned on doing with those.

“Isn’t it a little early to play dress up?”

Viggo laughed lightly. “Oh, we won’t be doing that till later in the day.” Hiccup was breathing wildly as he moved the pearls towards his cock, an idea forming in his head, an idea he very much didn’t like.

His assumption about what Viggo was going to do was confirmed as Viggo took his cock in one hand, and with the other pressed the beads to his slit. Hiccup yelped as the first one went inside.

Very suddenly, there was sound downstairs, crashing, grumbling. It only took a few seconds for Stoick to run up the stairs, sword drawn. Hiccup stared at him, aghast, a furious red heating his cheeks. Now he was seeing what Viggo was doing to him.

Red heated Stoick’s cheeks as well, some from embarrassment probably, most from anger. His eyes were smoldering.

Viggo looked over his shoulder at him, at the sword in his hand.

“Oh, good morning.”

Stoick gave a furious yell, turned, and stormed down the stairs. There was a loud clang as he threw the sword to the floor, and then the door slammed shut behind him. Hiccup just stared at the wall, not wanting to see Viggo’s face after that. He was surely amused. Mortification shoveled away at his gut.

“No, no, don’t let this die,” Viggo said, speaking of his erection. He stroked his cock, and the touch of the leather was enough for it to come back. Hiccup sobbed, frustrated, angry, despairing. The beads continued to go into him.

“Y-You can’t put the whole thing…” Hiccup gasped out. He had his eyes shut now, but it had looked to be about a foot and a half long. He felt dizzy.

“Why not?”

“B-Because…” Hiccup didn’t have a good answer that would stop him. Nothing would.

There was intense pressure as the first pearl pushed at his prostate. Then it was going inside and Hiccup was releasing a yell, pulling hard on his restraints, thrashing to the best of his ability, It did nothing to improve his situation.

Another bead went inside. Pleasure like none other hit him, but gods, this was horrible. 

“Get it out!” He didn’t know what it would feel like if they went deeper. It disturbed him greatly, and discomfort twisted his stomach.

Viggo paused, laid a hand on his chest. “Sh, breathe, Hiccup. You’re going to make yourself faint.”

“B-better than- than this.”

“No.  _ Breathe _ .”

Hiccup had to listen to him. He just had to. He stopped moving, pulled in a deep breath through his mouth, let it out that way too. He was trembling violently.

Viggo caressed his chest and abdomen as he did this, and the good feeling of that had him calming more. Soon, he was able to breathe normally again.

“Good boy. Just stay relaxed. I don’t want to injure you.”

Hiccup snorted at that, but Viggo gave him a sharp look, so he kept in his retort. With nothing else to do, he let Viggo continue pushing the beads into him.

It hurt when they reached his bladder, and he groaned, pulled on the ropes and chains again, wanting nothing more than to roll onto his side and curl into a ball. Viggo ignored him, and more pearls went in. Hiccup was trying to breathe deeply, and his erection began to fade, but Viggo just stroked him back to full hardness.

Eventually, almost all the beads were in him. Viggo left a few hanging out as a way to pull them out later (hopefully sooner). He just stroked him with one hand, caressed his body with the other.

“That’s it, Hiccup. Just breathe. You’re doing wonderfully.”

“Please take them out,” he said in a very small voice, looking to him tearfully.

“They’ll come out,” Viggo told him. “Just not yet.” He gave his cock a light squeeze. “Mm, it looks beautiful like that. So enticing knowing you’re so full.” He rubbed his hand over his pelvis, pressed on it a little, and Hiccup gasped loudly at the sensation of him pushing on the beads in him.

Hiccup tilted his head back and moaned desperately as Viggo continued stroking him. The gloves felt so terribly good, especially wet with the oil, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to cum like this.

“ _ Fuuuck _ .”

“Do you feel like you need to cum?”

Hiccup nodded. Maybe that meant the beads would come out.

They didn’t. Viggo continued his playing. His fingers brushed lightly over his aching nipples, making sparks zing down to his cock. Hiccup was loud in his ecstasy, uncaring now that they were all alone. He had to release his pleasure and torment somehow.

Hiccup’s orgasm just built and built, everything tightening, clenching for it. Somehow, the sensation hit him. He screamed at the intensity of the pleasure, at the feeling of his urethra contracting around the beads, at the way Viggo stroked him through it. Then it was done, and he was softening, but he hadn’t truly cum.

“What- what was that?” Hiccup panted.

“Still an orgasm,” Viggo told him. Some of the beads slipped out as he softened. “Just without ejaculation.”

Hiccup didn’t know what to think of that. He just wanted the beads out. He felt drained. 

“Can those… come out now?”

“In time.” Viggo pulled off the gloves, signalling that this was done. Thank goodness. He pulled a key from his belt, leaned over and unlocked the cuffs around Hiccup’s wrists. Then he was working on untying the rope. Once Hiccup was free, he was putting everything back in his satchel. He gave no sign of taking out the beads. Hiccup sat up, which jolted a strange sensation through him. He reached for them, but then drew his hand away. He knew he couldn’t do it.

“Get dressed,” Viggo told him.

“But-”

“No but’s.” Viggo stood, shouldered the satchel. “Dressed. Now.”

Hiccup looked down between his legs, then at his clothes strewn on the floor. Why was Viggo just leaving them there? Well, questions aside, he had to follow his order. He stood and began dressing. Movement felt strange with the pearls still in him. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Once dressed, Viggo was taking some of the discarded rope and tying it around the ring in his collar to make a leash.

“Where are we going?” Hiccup asked. Why did he have to be led around? Viggo knew he would stay with him even if he wasn’t leashed. Was this because of how he’d acted yesterday?

“To my ship.”

“Am I going to see Toothless?”

Viggo began leading him down the stairs. “Odin, you ask so many questions.” 

Hiccup took that as a cue to shut up. He was asking questions because he didn’t know what was going on! Viggo wasn’t telling him anything, so of course he wanted to know.

It hurt walking with the pearls inside of him, but at this point he knew Viggo wasn’t going to remove them any time soon. He wanted to fake having to relieve himself, but he was sure that they would just be put back in after, so that wouldn’t work. He looked down before they left the house to make sure they weren’t somehow visible in the shape of his pants. He was wearing looser ones than usual. Nothing was showing.

There was new damage from battle outside. Hiccup looked around to see fallen watchtowers and broken catapults, scorched earth and blasted rubble. All signs of the battle, but no signs of who had won.

_ Oh gods, what if he has their bodies on the ship?  _ he thought in horror.  _ What if he’s taking me to see their bodies? _

At the thought, Hiccup stopped, but a silent tug on the rope had him walking again. He realized he could have just reached up and untied it, but then what would that get him? Punishment of some sort, certainly. He just kept his eyes downcast so as to avoid the gaze of anyone looking at him. Berkians gave him curious, pitying looks. Dragon Hunters gave him amused ones. He was sure they would have been jeering at him were his leash not being held by their chief.

There was no talk between the two of them as they walked under an overcast sky to the docks, and there was no talk as they boarded the ship either. Viggo handed his satchel off to a Hunter and told him to take it to his rooms. Then he was leading Hiccup down to the cells.

_ Maybe I will be seeing Toothless.  _ Though, Hiccup doubted that that was Viggo’s surprise. No. This was something else.

Toothless was asleep in his cell when they entered. Hiccup wanted to run to him, wake him, somehow get through the bars and hug him, but all he did was stare longingly. It wouldn’t due to wake his dragon. It had been a very stressful few days and he probably needed the rest. Besides, Toothless wasn’t what he was here to see. He was sure of it.

Viggo stopped before taking him all the way to the last cell. “Well, Hiccup, you wanted to know the outcome of the battle.” Then he was tugging on the rope, bringing him into view of the cell.

“Astrid?! Tuffnut?! Snotlout?!” He couldn’t help crying all of their names, and they cried his too, rushing to the front of the bars. They looked mostly unhurt save for some scratches, and they were reaching for him through the bars.

“Hiccup! Good gods, what is he doing to you?!” That was Astrid. Hiccup went over to take her hand, but a jerk on the rope pulled him away.

“Where’s everyone else?” Hiccup asked. The worst flooded through his mind.

“They retreated,” Snotlout answered.

“We saw blood all over you yesterday,” Astrid said. “Are you hurt?”

Hiccup was hurt, but he didn’t have time to tell them that, or how. Now in front of Viggo wasn’t the time or place.

“Guys, I’m fine,” Hiccup lied. “Don’t worry. I’ll-” He gave a cry as the collar was suddenly tugged down and a needle shoved hard into his neck. He gasped at the feeling of the aphrodisiacs burning through his veins. No,  _ no!  _ What was Viggo doing?!

“Look at me, Hiccup.” A tug on the rope to turn him the right way, and then suddenly a blindfold was going over his eyes. “Not them.”

Hiccup wanted to cry. What was he doing?! His cheeks heated from the drug and embarrassment. He began to grow erect, some of the pearls sliding back into him as he did, and it hurt. He moaned, fell to his knees, and that seemed to be where Viggo wanted him, because he heard him undoing his belt. His friends were crying his name and he wanted to look at them but he couldn’t see. He was trying hard not to panic. Why did Viggo want to humiliate him like this?

Viggo had dropped the rope. He took him hard under the jaw. Hiccup was panting, the drug rushing down towards his stomach, then lower, so hot inside of him, so ridiculously hot. He wanted his clothes off.

“I just want to show your friends what we’ve been up to,” Viggo told him, caressing under his chin, and gods, those fingers felt good. Hiccup opened his mouth in hard breaths. “Suck me off and I’ll reward you after, alright?”

A reward would mean the beads coming out of him, would mean an orgasm, would mean fulfillment. Feeling hot flesh near his mouth, Hiccup moved forward, took him in. There were yells for him not to, sounds of disgust, but they didn’t understand. He  _ had  _ to do it. Even without the added pressure of the drug, if he didn’t do this, he would be punished.

Hiccup had no choice but to take him all the way down his throat, and he for a moment he forgot about the trick with his thumb, ended up choking. Then he remembered, and there was pleasure pulsing through his throat from Viggo’s touch, and he let out a muffled moan.

Though he was blindfolded, Viggo let him do most of the work. He was eager about it, wanting so badly for this to just be over with, for the pearls to be taken out of him, to cum and be done with it all. His lust was raging, and it was difficult not to stick his unbandaged hand down his pants and jerk himself off. He wouldn’t though. Viggo hadn’t told him to. He would wait for Viggo.

Viggo came down his throat with a groan, and Hiccup had no choice but to swallow it. He did so excitedly, even though it choked him. Now for his own satisfaction. 

“Please, oh please,” Hiccup whimpered as Viggo stood him up. He turned him around, pressed himself up against him. He’d turned his collar around and was using the rope to tightly tie up his wrists. Hiccup didn’t care that he was being restrained again. All that mattered was an orgasm.

  
  


Astrid was almost too shocked to react when Viggo put a key into the cell door with the hand that wasn’t holding Hiccup and swung it open. He shoved Hiccup in with them, and in that instant she rushed forward, trying to lunge for him. He had seen that coming from her though, hit her hard with the back of his hand. She fell back with a cry, and the door slammed shut and locked again.

“Have fun with him,” Viggo said, brushing off the hand he’d hit her with on his tunic. “He needs some… tending to.” Then he was leaving, and they had Hiccup in the cell with them.

Hiccup didn’t seem to care that he was with them. He turned around, flung himself at the bars though he couldn’t see and his hands were bound behind his back.

“Viggo, wait!  _ Wait! _ Come back!”

He slumped to his knees, panting.

“Hiccup, it’s alright. We’ll get out of here.” Astrid approached him, put a hand on his shoulder. She wasn’t sure what to make of what she’d just witnessed. Why had Hiccup… sucked Viggo off so readily? Why was he begging for him? What had been done to him in her absence that had made him like this? What had he injected him with?

“Doesn’t matter,” Hiccup said. He turned around, sat, back against the bars. Snotlout came forward and took the blindfold off of him.

“Dude, your pupils are huge!” Snotlout commented. Tuffnut came in to look, and Astrid was peering at him as well. As Snotlout had said, Hiccup’s pupils were massive, taking up almost his entire iris.

“That must have been a drug that he injected him with,” Tuffnut reasoned, and of course he of all people would know. “What’s it do?” he asked Hiccup.

Hiccup shook his head, bit his lip, whined. He made a strange motion where he rolled his hips, and Astrid found herself looking before she could stop herself, saw a bulge in his pants.

“Come on, man, let us help you. He said you’d need help.”

“It-It… Fuck, I can’t say it.” Hiccup turned his head away from all of them. His hips kept rolling, as if he didn’t even know he was doing the action. Based on that, and his earlier actions, Astrid could figure what it was.

“Aphrodisiac?” she asked tentatively, cheeks flushing.

“Yeah,” Hiccup got out hoarsely. He rolled onto his side away from them. “It’s not gonna stop on its own.” His voice was so desperate. “But I want it to! Agh!”

Astrid didn’t know how he was speaking coherently. He looked like he was a few seconds away from humping the wall or the floor.

The three Dragon Riders just stood there, entirely unsure of what to do. Hiccup had said it wouldn’t stop on its own, but that would mean he needed help from someone. Not unless they untied him though!

Astrid knelt down by him, and Hiccup inched away from her. 

“No, don’t touch me.”

“Hiccup, I’m just going to untie you.” 

“O-okay.” He didn’t move away as she approached. She reached for the knots, looked them over. They were complicated, but hopefully she could figure them out.

“Are they almost undone?” Hiccup asked after about a minute of her struggling with the knots. In that time he’d just been whining and whimpering. It sounded like the drug made this agony for him.

“I can’t do it,” Astrid ceded. “They need to be cut.”

“Fuck!” Hiccup yelled. He definitely appeared to be losing it. Astrid didn’t know what to do. This whole thing had been so sudden. She hadn’t expected to see Hiccup at all, and he’d been brought to her on a  _ leash _ and made to suck the enemy’s cock in front of them. She hadn’t watched, but the sounds of him choking and moaning had been horrible. This whole thing let her know what Viggo had been doing to him. He’d been raping him. He was using him as a sex slave. The collar and the leash told her that much. She wanted to be sick. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit something. Most of all, she wanted to hug Hiccup, and then kill Viggo, tear him to pieces and make him suffer. Looking to Tuffnut and Snotlout, the only two who had been captured with her, she realized they knew all this as well and were feeling similarly. 

“Well, now what?” Tuffnut asked.

“Help me.” Hiccup rolled onto his back. “You have to help me.  _ Please _ .”

Astrid’s face turned beet red. She had a crush on Hiccup. She couldn’t just… get him off, even if he was asking her. They hadn’t talked about this!

But he was in pain.

Snotlout and Tuffnut were also questioning this. Hiccup was just moaning in what was very clearly pain as they all silently debated what to do. Though, it appeared there was only one thing to do. They had to help him. 

It looked like Astrid would be the only one brave enough to move forward though.

“Okay, Hiccup, we’ll help.” She came forward, undid the drawstring of his pants with shaky fingers. It was hard to get herself to pull them down. She felt like she was violating him. He wouldn’t have wanted this if he hadn’t been drugged, but he was in pain. There was nothing else for them to do about it.

Astrid stopped at seeing his cock. She’d never seen a cock before, but she was definitely sure there weren’t supposed to be pearls coming out of the tip of it.

“H-Hiccup?”

“Take them out. Please take them out. Somebody.” His words were frantic, desperate. She wondered just how long those had been in there, how painful it was. Sickness twisted her stomach. There was nothing at all arousing about this, but Hiccup was as aroused as ever.

“I’ll do it,” Tuffnut volunteered, coming forward. “I’ve, uh, seen some weird shit before, so I’ve got this.”

“J-just go slow,” Hiccup warned him.

“I will.”

Astrid couldn’t help watching out of grotesque curiosity as Tuffnut carefully took ahold of the beads and began to pull. Hiccup moaned and writhed as they were removed from him, and it was hard to tell whether it was in pain or pleasure. Maybe it was both.

Gods it was so long! She felt more sick than she had before. 

Finally, the last pearl was out, and Astrid was able to swallow back her nausea, feeling shaky. Hiccup was panting, twisting his head.

“Pl-please.” He seemed incapable of most speech now. He was still hard. And of course he was. He’d said it wouldn’t go away on its own.

Long moments passed where no one did anything and Hiccup just sobbed. Looking at Tuffnut and Snotlout, Astrid realized that they wouldn’t be the ones to do it. Viggo had left them in this humiliating situation, and she had to be the one to help Hiccup.

“Hiccup, is it okay if I… touch you?”

“Please, please, please!” He was so desperate now. Astrid wondered what he was feeling.

“Okay, Hiccup.” She inched forwards, reached out her hand, feeling a million things at once and unsure of what they all were. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t just… She put her hand around him. He sobbed in what sounded like relief when she did. He was hot and throbbing, and it felt like there had been some sort of oil rubbed on him earlier. She was entirely unsure of what to do.

“You have to uh, pump it,” Snotlout supplied.

And so she did, clumsy about it at first, hand slipping off of him a few times. Hiccup whined, thrusted his hips forward.

“Come on, Astrid,” he panted.

“Sorry, I’m nervous!”

Hiccup said nothing to that, just moved his hips again, and Astrid tried not to feel bad that he wasn’t caring about her anxiety. This wasn’t Hiccup. He was drugged.

Taking a deep breath, Astrid took a firmer grip on him and pumped him. No one said anything as she did this. Hiccup just moaned in pleasure. It took a few minutes, given that she didn’t know what she was doing and what spots were good for him, but eventually he was reaching climax. He moaned from deep in his chest with it, and she wasn’t sure what to do about the substance that spurted from him and coated her hand.

“I, uh…”

“Here.” Tuffnut was ripping off part of the bottom of his tunic. He handed a piece to Astrid. Then he was looking at Hiccup, who had his hands tied up. “Do you want me to, um-”

“Yeah,” Hiccup said. “Just do it quick.”

Astrid just focused on cleaning her hand, not paying attention to what Tuffnut was doing for Hiccup. Then she tossed the dirtied fabric aside, and they all sat in silence. Hiccup’s breathing began to even out and his pupils were shrieking back to regular size.

“Guys, I’m… really sorry about that. The drug. It makes me-”

“No, it’s okay,” Tuffnut said. “I get it.”

“I don’t!” Snotlout cried. “What? Viggo just injects you with something and then suddenly you go all horny for him?”

“Snotlout!” Astrid cried as Hiccup turned his face away, cheeks flushing a bright red.

“What? I just don’t get it!”

“He injected him with something that makes him all horny,” Tuffnut said. “You said it yourself. That’s all that that was. You  _ know  _ Hiccup hates Viggo!”

“I do,” Hiccup said firmly, his face now set in determination and antipathy. “I hate him more than any of you, and I swear I’ll find a way to kill him.”

“You know, maybe we should all talk,” Astrid suggested. She pulled her knees up. “Hiccup, tell us what’s been happening the past few days.”

Hiccup took a deep breath. Where his cheeks had been red, now they were white. “Okay, but you’re not going to like it.”


	15. Chapter 15

Stoick was sick from what he’d seen taking place in Hiccup’s room. After a while, he forced himself to return to the house to get dressed for the day, hoping that whatever was going on was finished. He couldn’t get the sight of Viggo touching his naked son out of his mind, but still, he went through the front door. Waiting a moment showed that the house was quiet and empty. He could dress for the day, eat if he could calm his stomach, and then go about his work.

His work was checking on his people, seeing who had survived, as he heard the Dragon Rider attack had caused a small uprising. It was good that his people still had their spirits, but not that they had lost. Well, he wondered if they still had their spirits after what looked to be a failed attack. He wondered if anyone of them could tell him what had happened.

He dressed, ate a little bit, but couldn’t make himself eat a full meal, and then went back outside. He was tired of the sun, but there was nothing he could do about that. Tomorrow, it would finally set for at least ten minutes. Night time would start coming back.

It had rained the night before, washing away the smells of blood and smoke, making the dust from the fight cling to the ground as a thin layer of mud. The sky was still gray, and rain was drizzling, but Stoick didn’t want to stay inside. He had things to do, and too many bad things had happened in his house recently for him to feel comfortable there. He only felt useful if he was on the move.

Stoick didn’t get very far before he saw Viggo walking through the main square, directed towards him with a purpose in his stride. He walked past the chopping block completely unfazed. The stone underneath had been finally cleared of blood thanks to the rain, but it was almost like Stoick could still see it. He just stood at the other end of the square, waiting for Viggo. He wasn’t going to go to him and make his job easier.

“Good morning, Stoick.” He stopped in front of him, folded his hands behind his back. “About earlier… I-”

“Were defiling my son in his own bed,” Stoick cut in bitterly. “I’m sure he’ll thank you for that.”

“Oh, he did, actually.”

“Where is he?”

“Got tied up talking to people, I’m afraid,” Viggo said. “Though you’ll see him at today’s audience.”

“Audience?”

“Yes, I’m having an audience to make my rule and your role in it official,” Viggo told him. “Around midafternoon. You’ll be there, by my throne, looking your best.”

Stoick felt like this was just Viggo playing, that he only wanted Stoick there looking good because he was a toy for him to show off to people.

And by his throne meant in the Mead Hall, next to the monstrous thing that he’d seen yesterday. Stoick didn’t know if he could get himself to walk in there, but he would have to. He’d have to sit in almost the same spot he had while he’d watched Hiccup being taken. Gods, this was going to be a painful ordeal. 

“I’ll be there,” Stoick confirmed. There was nothing else for him to say, no way for him to refuse. Besides, he wanted to hear what Viggo had to say. How publicly could he insult him without causing a problem?

“Good.” Viggo made a face, as if he was thinking, but Stoick could tell that it was all for show. He even put a hand to his chin. “Now, about those two soldiers yesterday. Still haven’t been able to find them anywhere. They never checked in to their posts. They’ve just vanished like that.” Viggo snapped his fingers.

“And?” Nerves grated in Stoick’s stomach. Viggo suspected him. Of course he did. He wasn’t stupid.

“Well, I don’t want to presume that anything bad happened to them at the hands of someone from Berk,” Viggo said. “As that would mean great punishment for it’s once-ruler and his son. But,” he held up a finger, “if these men were dispatched for unsavory reasons, I could perhaps turn a blind eye.”

“Unsavory reasons?”

“They were escorting Hiccup, and I’ve heard how the men talk about him. If someone had seen something and jumped in to stop it from happening to my precious slave, it would not really matter. I would have punished them similarly myself.”

Viggo didn’t just suspect him. He  _ knew _ . But what he was saying was important. He was letting Stoick know that he knew, but also giving him an opening to tell him that yes, he’d killed them for trying to assault Hiccup. Viggo would allow that sort of thing. How could Stoick say it without being outright?

“A certain Berkian might have walked in on an assault,” Stoick said after careful thinking. “And put a stop to it by any means necessary.”

Viggo nodded, looking grim. “I see. How far did they get?” All presumptuous talk was over, and he was asking Stoick outright.

“He still had his clothes on,” Stoick answered. “I don’t know anything else.”

“Alright then.” He nodded again, pursing his lips. “I’m sure they’ll be missed, but not by me. Hiccup is mine and mine alone.”

Stoick didn’t like those words, though Viggo had shown possession of Hiccup. Technically, it was true. He’d come and conquered them, and so he could take any prize he wanted. His prize was Hiccup. Even without a brand, Hiccup was Viggo’s. 

“I’m sure you understand that.”

It took a long time for Stoick to nod. He did understand that, but it was difficult to accept and put out there. His son belonged to Viggo Grimborn.

  
  


“Wait, so you’re his… you’re his…” Snotlout couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“Yeah,” Hiccup said hoarsely, looking down. “I’m his thrall.” They all knew what for as well.

“Has he hurt you?” Astrid asked. “I saw blood on you yesterday.”

Hiccup decided he should just be honest with them. They’d already seen him in one of the most humiliating situations he’d been in in his life. What was the point of hiding anything from them?

“Yeah. He hit me with his belt.”

They all winced at that, all knowing how the spikes on Viggo’s belt were actually sharp and not just for show.

“When we got your Terror Mail, we knew it was bad,” Astrid told him. “But we didn’t expect any of this.”

“You shouldn’t have fought,” Hiccup said with a shake of his head. “You should have stayed back, waited for reinforcements.” Talking strategy was better than talking about what had happened to Berk. He’d told them of the countless deaths, the rapes, the people imprisoned. They’d all listened with horror on their faces, crying silently, and sometimes not so silently. This was their home, and it was being ruined by cruel conquerors. 

“We sent Terror Mail to Dagur and Mala,” Tuffnut said. “But they wouldn’t have gotten it when we wanted to attack.”

“Yeah, we couldn’t just wait,” Snotlout said. “Not after seeing all the Hunter ships. It looked too bad.”

“But now you’re here.” Now it was time for the dreaded question. “What about the others? Where are they?”

“Don’t worry, Hiccup,” Astrid said. “They retreated to Dragon Island. They’re going to wait for Dagur and Mala there.”

Hiccup felt some tension release from his shoulders at that, a weight come off his chest. That was good. All his friends were still alive. He felt like he hadn’t been able to breathe easy since the attack, but now he could - just a little bit. They were still stuck in this situation with no way out, and their only help wouldn’t be quick in coming. They didn’t have dragons, would have to arrive by ship. For now, they were all stuck like this.

“Good,” he said.

They all turned their heads at the sound of the door at the end of the hall opening. Then there were very familiar footsteps. Hiccup looked up from where he sat as Viggo came into view.

“Feeling better now?” he asked.

Snotlout abruptly rose to his feet, shaking a fist. “You drugged him!”

“Oh, but he enjoyed it.” Viggo was taking a key from his belt. There were more footsteps coming down the hallway. Three Dragon Hunters, one for each of the Riders, probably to hold them back. No soldier was needed for Hiccup. There was just Viggo for him.

Viggo inserted the key in the lock and opened the cell door. Instantly, the Riders tried to rush at him, but the soldiers grabbed them and threw them back. They brandished weapons, pointed them threateningly.

“Guys, don’t fight,” Hiccup told them, rising to his feet. He didn’t want anyone getting hurt. 

The Riders looked at him, fierce, but then fell into submissiveness at his gaze. They would follow his order.

“Hiccup, do you mind picking up those beads for me?” Viggo asked. “I don’t want to lose them.”

Hiccup felt at his wrists, still tied behind his back, and looked at him incredulously. Then he realized how Viggo wanted to pick them up, and humiliation heated his cheeks. He felt like nothing more than Viggo’s bitch.

Trying not to think too hard about it, about what he was doing and where those beads had been, Hiccup got down onto his knees and picked them up with his teeth. He stood, the beads dangling from his mouth. He turned to Viggo and dropped them into his waiting hand.

“Good boy,” Viggo praised. He ruffled his hair, making Hiccup heat with anger. “Now, come along. It’s time for a bath.”

  
  


Mala stared at the Terror Mail in her hands in shock. She read it again. Then again, just to make sure.

Berk had been attacked. The Riders didn’t know what was going on, as Hiccup had only sent a coded message, but they knew it was urgent. They explained that Hiccup hadn’t been with them at Dragon’s Edge, recovering from a bout of pneumonia. All of this sparked her through with worry.

“Throk, read this,” she said, handing it to him. He’d been looking curiously over her shoulder, but now he could read it clearly.

Throk read the message, then looked at her in astonishment. “My queen, what do we do?”

“Well, obviously we go and help them.” She began walking towards the courtyard where she held audiences. She would call her people to her, have them fight with her to free Berk from its attackers. She feared that it was Viggo and the Dragon Hunters. Thinking of Viggo made her terribly angry. He was a sadistic, horrible man who viewed humans as mere things to be played with, and dragons as nothing but profit. She’d been at war with him for a long time, had even met with him personally once or twice to try to talk things over. He didn’t want to end his trade though, and she wouldn’t stop fighting him for that. So, the war was a constant, had been for many years. 

“Gather our people,” she ordered of Throk. “They need to hear about this.”

Throk nodded and ran off, leaving Mala to ascend the dais and sit on her throne. She felt powerful in her throne, like she could do anything. Though, she hoped that she would be on time, that Berk hadn’t fallen. Or, if it had, that she could free it.

  
  


Dagur flew towards Berserker Island, a rolled up message clutched tightly in one hand. It had come from the Dragon Riders, and ever since he’d read it, worry and a hint of panic had been gnawing at his stomach. Berk had been attacked, with Hiccup on it no less, and now they were asking for his help. Help? What help could he give when he was one man on a Gronckle? Not that Gronckles weren’t good fighters, but he was all alone. He had yet to return home, had been putting it off because of his own fears, but he had no choice now. He had to return home, had to give Berk the help they so desperately needed.

“Don’t shoot!” Dagur cried as he came into range of the catapults. Hopefully they could hear him from here. “Don’t shoot!” He held up his hands to show he wasn’t holding any weapon. “It’s me! It’s Dagur!”

No one shot at him, and he was allowed to land. A group of guards gathered, looking astonished.

“Dagur? Is that really you?”

Dagur frowned at the fact that he hadn’t been addressed as chief, but: “Yes, it’s me.”

He dismounted from Shattermaster, patted him on the head. 

“We thought you were in prison on Outcast Island,” one guard said, her brows raised skeptically.

“I was,” Dagur said. “But, I, uh, it’s a long story.”

“A story everyone can hear once we strip you of your weapons,” the woman said. She held out her hand, wiggled her fingers.

Dagur sighed. He hadn’t expected a warm welcome. He took his axe from his back and handed it over.

“Can this be quick?” he asked as they began herding him towards the Great Hall, a big, stone building set in the center of the town. “This is kind of important.”

“Of course it’s important,” one guard said. “We haven’t seen you in years and there’s been no chief since then.”

“Was the council running everything?” Dagur asked. He hoped his island hadn’t fallen into disarray with him gone. The first couple of years without him must have been hard, especially right after a war. And many of their soldiers had been imprisoned along with him as war criminals. They were all dead now, or joined up with Viggo. 

“Yes,” one of his guards answered. They were around him in a circle. They clearly didn’t trust him. This was going to be difficult. He needed their trust for this. “No thanks to you.”

Dagur wanted to apologize, but decided against it. What would an apology do after three and a half years of his absence?

They got to the Great Hall. It was around noon, so there were people in there enjoying their breaks from work and their meals. They all stopped when the guards entered with Dagur, turned to look at him. Whispers started up.

_ This isn’t fun.  _ Dagur sometimes liked to be the center of attention, but not when it was something like this, not when his people so clearly didn’t trust him. They’d taken his weapon from him for gods’ sakes!

The guards took him to the front, where his throne was. He doubted he’d be allowed to sit in it. He stared at it, a large wooden chair with weapons melded onto the backs and the sides. It was intimidating, perfect for him. He itched to sit in it, to take control of the situation and show his power, but he couldn’t just yet. He put the message in a pouch on his belt. He realized that, before he could help Berk, he had to answer to his people. 

  
  


It was a long audience, lasting into the evening. People, from farmers and blacksmiths to soldiers, came forward, asking him questions, demanding to know what had happened, demanding his remorse.

Dagur easily gave it. It was real. He felt bad for having abandoned his people, for leaving them without a chief for so long. He was just glad no one had been appointed in his place, that he had no one he had to fight for the throne.

At the end of the day, after hearing his story, they decided it was his. That was good. Tomorrow, he could work on getting them to help Berk.

  
  


“Bathe me,” Viggo told Hiccup. They were in the bathhouses, naked together as if they were nothing more than a normal couple, and Hiccup was shocked by the order. His collar and restraints had been taken off, his bandages removed, and he’d been glad to sit in the hot water, even if it was around Viggo.

“Bathe you?” Hiccup asked.

“Yes. You’re my thrall,” Viggo said. There was satisfaction glittering in his eyes. “So attend me.” 

Hiccup wanted to sigh, but decided it would be safer not to. He moved over to Viggo, took up the soap and the sponge. He wasn’t sure what to do, feeling awkward. He’d never bathed anyone else in his life.

He started with Viggo’s shoulders, then moved down to his chest. Viggo hummed, was smiling softly at him. Hiccup hated the smile, because it seemed real. He wondered what his relationship with Viggo would have been like had there been no war, had they met as friends instead of enemies. The thought disturbed him, and he shook it out of his head. That didn’t matter. What mattered was what they were now, and Hiccup was his slave, doing exactly as he wished. 

Hiccup felt eyes on him, tried not to pay attention to them. The bathhouse was a public place, so of course he was being watched. Unable to help it, he looked over his shoulder, saw an undressing Berkian staring at him. There were more of them too, all watching him. There was hatred on their faces. 

_ No, no.  _ Hiccup didn’t want these people to hate him. They were  _ his _ people. He needed their trust to be able to get them out of this situation, but, seeing the things Viggo was making him do, they didn’t trust him. They couldn’t.

_ Dammit _ . 

“Don’t pay attention to them,” Viggo told Hiccup, taking him by the chin and making him look back towards him. “It’s just us, alright?”

_ I don’t like “just us.” _

Hiccup nodded, continued cleaning Viggo. He’d already seen his naked body, but cleaning it was vastly uncomfortable. 

And then he had to clean lower. Viggo lifted his legs for him, let him clean his muscled thighs. Hiccup swallowed hard, tried not to think of who he was doing this for, but the sheer masculinity of the legs made it clear who they belonged to.

Viggo pushed his hips forward in the water. “Clean my cock.”

Hiccup accidentally made a small growling sound in his throat.

“Don’t be like that,” Viggo said. “Nothing you haven’t touched before.”

Hiccup just gritted his teeth, wanting to shoot him a glare, but he didn’t know if he was allowed to do that. So, he took one of the cloths from the side of the bath, dipped it in water and rubbed it in soap, and brought it down to Viggo’s cock. Viggo sighed, jutting his hips forward. He was half hard in the hot water.

Viggo touched him as he did this, ran his fingers through his dripping hair, down over his shoulder and chest. Hiccup was afraid he was going to do something sexual to him right here.

Hiccup gasped as Viggo touched one of his pierced nipples. He glanced to Viggo’s face, but he was just watching him.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

And so, Hiccup went back to cleaning Viggo’s genitals, handling them carefully though all he wanted to do was tear them off of him so he could never use them again.

Viggo kept touching Hiccup, lazily running one hand over him, playing with his nipples. Hiccup gritted his teeth, feeling arousal spark in his blood from his touch. The heat the relaxation of the bath was helping with that. His body was beginning to want sex. His face turned red with embarrassment. 

Viggo suddenly leaned forward, capturing Hiccup’s lips with his. Hiccup dropped the cloth in the water, and Viggo pushed him back against the edge of the tub. The kiss was gentle, but controlling. Hiccup couldn’t say no to it, and he feared what would happen to himself or someone else if he didn’t go along with it. He opened his mouth to Viggo, let him put his tongue inside.

Viggo put himself between Hiccup’s legs, rutted against him. There was no oil and he hadn’t been stretched, so it was just futile thrusting at his hole. Then Viggo repositioned himself, and his cock slid against Hiccup’s. The man came out of the kiss, letting out a sigh, and Hiccup groaned.

“D-do we have to do this here?” Hiccup asked.

“Yes,” Viggo said. “You can feel how I want you.”

Hiccup closed his eyes. Better to pretend he wasn’t here, that this wasn’t happening to him. He reminded himself that this wasn’t his first time being fucked in a public place where anyone could watch if they wanted to.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Viggo murmured. 

Hiccup hesitated before doing it, but then did so, clinging onto him with his legs. Viggo’s thrusts were slow, good, and Hiccup tilted his head back against the edge of the bath. A moan left his open mouth, and Viggo kissed at his throat. That was a sensitive spot for him, and it just made everything feel all the better. Hiccup hated everything about this, but his body didn’t.

_ Stop. Please stop. _

Viggo didn’t go hard at him this time like he had so many other times. He kissed and sucked at his throat, his collarbone, his shoulders. Hiccup found himself clutching at his damp hair, nails digging into the back of his neck.

Hiccup fell into the heat, the pleasure sizzling in his veins, the sheer goodness Viggo was giving him. They came around the same time, both moaning, and then Viggo kissed him deeply, as if he wanted to take his moan and keep it.

“There,” Viggo said. He looked relaxed. “I wanted to do that before the audience.”

“Audience?” Hiccup asked breathlessly. Viggo was still on top of him.

“Yes.” Viggo moved off of him. He smirked. “You may want to clean yourself up.” 


	16. Chapter 16

Hiccup fiddled with the metal clasp that kept his cape on as he looked at himself in the mirror. All this finery seemed like a great joke to him. He was wearing pants of black, supple leather, a richly made blue tunic, a cape of white wolf’s fur, and a bracelet of silver on each wrist. Viggo had taken him back to his ship after the bath and made him dress in this, and he’d had no choice but to.

“Do not worry about your looks, darling.” Viggo came up behind him, and Hiccup stepped out of the way so that he could use the mirror. He was dressed just as richly, his cape made of black fur. There was a ring on nearly every one of his fingers.

“I’m not,” Hiccup told him. “I think it’s all a bit much.”

Viggo huffed. “Does Berk not take their audiences so seriously?”

“No,” Hiccup answered. “We live and work among these people every day. What’s the point of dressing up for it?”

“The point is to show your status, to separate yourself from them and remind them of who you are.” Viggo turned to him as he spoke.

“But I’m just your slave.” Why should he be dressed so finely?

“Yes, but that’s a higher position than a regular slave,” Viggo told him, taking him under the jaw. He stroked his thumb over his chin, met his eyes, and Hiccup didn’t know what he was searching for in there. Submissiveness? He certainly wasn’t going to give him that. He just glared.

Viggo broke eye contact, patted him on the shoulder. “Come. We don’t want to be late.”

  


Hiccup stood outside the Mead Hall, Viggo beside him. He stared at the great, carved double doors, his heart pounding, his hands beginning to sweat. He hadn’t been back in here since… well, since that first day, since Viggo had raped him in here in front of his dad, and the same had happened to so many others. He didn’t want to go back in, felt like if he did he would just relive the experience. 

“Come, now, Hiccup, it’s just a building.”

“You know it’s not.” He didn’t move. That seemed to frustrate Viggo. He took him under the arm and began to pull him forward, pushing on one door with his other hand.

Hiccup dug his heel and his prosthetic into the stone. He did _not_ want to go back in there.

“No! Wait!”

“You’re acting undignified,” Viggo told him. 

Hiccup managed to rip his arm from Viggo’s grip. “You _took_ my dignity,” he sneered. He nodded his head towards the doors. “In there. You stole it from me.”

“Hiccup-”

“How many people do you think saw you fuck me in public yesterday?” Hiccup asked. “Or today? Was that your point? Was that your plan? Make me lose whatever dignity I could possibly have left?” He was angry now, so angry. This man had invaded his homeland and taken him in front of his father and his people. Now he wanted him to go back into the building this had happened in, the building he’d claimed for his own.

Viggo said nothing, took Hiccup by the arm again, and hauled him inside.

Hiccup hadn’t known what to expect of the hall after what had happened, but he was stunned by the monstrosity of a throne that sat where Stoick’s had used to be. He said nothing, letting Viggo pull him along, legs somehow moving. The blood had been cleaned from the floors and pillars, and the tables had been pushed to the sides to leave a large space clear in the center.

But then they got to the spot where Hiccup was sure it had happened. It must have happened right here, not very far from the throne. His breaths sped up and he felt like he might be sick. Tears stung in his eyes.

There were two chairs next to the horrible throne decorated with gold and dragon bones, one on each side. The one on the right was already occupied by his father. His face was white and his jaw was tightly set. Being in here was having the same effect on him as it was Hiccup.

“Hiccup,” Stoick said when he saw him. Viggo let go of him, and Stoick stood and embraced him. Hiccup hugged back, happy to feel his warmth and his strength. For a second, he was able to pretend that everything was okay and that nothing bad was going to happen.

Viggo yanked Hiccup out of the hug, sitting him down in the other chair. “You will not speak once the audience starts,” he told him, taking a seat in the throne, comfortably, as if he was used to the chair. Perhaps he was. Perhaps this was the seat from his homeland. It was atrocious and only added to Hiccup’s sick feeling. He felt like one of the dragon skulls was staring at him. 

“What happens if I do?” Hiccup asked. He wanted to know if defying orders would be worth it. 

“Oh, something terrible befalls your friends.” He was admiring the rings on one hand while saying it, but then he smiled at Hiccup. “How does that sound?”

Hiccup just swallowed and nodded in understanding. He couldn’t let anything bad happen to his friends because of him. Stoick looked around Viggo at the mention of the Dragon Riders, giving Hiccup a questioning look, but Hiccup didn’t know how to respond.

He didn’t have a chance to, as the doors at the other end of the hall opened, and people began to come in. As Hiccup looked, he saw that they were being shoved and pushed by Dragon Hunters, and corralled at sword and spear point. Quite a few of the women were crying, and there were men with haunted expressions on their faces. Those were the people who had experienced similar atrocities in here to Hiccup, right along with him. They had to be. Either that or they thought there was going to be a mass execution. Hiccup didn’t know whether or not there would be. He doubted it, as then Viggo would have no more pieces left to control and play with, but he realized that he didn’t know the purpose of this audience. He supposed he would just have to find out along with everyone else. 

As Berk’s people crowded in, Viggo looked at Hiccup.

“Get in my lap,” he ordered him.

“Wha-?”

“Not a word,” Viggo cut him off. “Get in my lap.”

Face heating red with embarrassment for the millionth time that day, Hiccup rose and made to seat himself in Viggo’s lap. When he was trying to get comfortable, Viggo suddenly shoved him off.

“No, not now, darling. Wait.”

Hiccup looked at him, one eyebrow raised in confusion. Then he looked at the crowd of people and hurriedly sat down, looking down at his lap, face a furious red. He understood what Viggo had done that for now. He understand all of his public spectacles now. He could feel eyes on him, stewing with hatred. That was the point. He wanted Berk to hate him. He wanted them to think that he was doing this of his own volition, that he’d willingly gone to the enemy’s bed. He wanted them to think that he’d turned against them for a handsome face and a cock.

Hiccup tightly clutched the arms of his chair, an angry growling noise rising in his throat. It wasn’t a spoken word, so he was allowed to make the sound. He didn’t even know if Viggo could hear it over the cacophony of voices.

Berk’s people hated him, or were learning to hate him. And Viggo was doing it so that he couldn’t start some sort of uprising, so that they wouldn’t do it of their own volition. Viggo didn’t want them to have any pity or sympathy for him. That way, Hiccup wouldn’t be able to convince them to act against him. He was destroying all of his support. 

_I hate him, I hate him, I hate him._

Viggo rose, held up a hand, and the crowd fell into silence. Hiccup looked to the faces that had worn hatred only a second ago, saw that they were once again stricken.

“I called you here today to make a few announcements.” Viggo’s voice was clear in the space of the hall. “I’m sure this all must be very confusing for you, but I am here to provide answers.”

“What do you want with us?!” some brave soul from the crowd shouted. Hiccup noticed that there were guards at the bottom of the dais, just in case anyone got _too_ brave.

“I mean to rule you,” Viggo answered. “It’s the only way to put a stop to the war that your own heir started.” He gestured towards Hiccup, and it took all of his might to not sink back into the chair. So Viggo was blaming the war on him now too to destroy any lingering sympathy. “As your new chief, I mean to bring about peace. Wouldn’t you all like that? A change from the war-mongering of Stoick the Vast.”

There was chatter throughout the crowd. Hiccup saw a few heads nodding, some shaking, and other people were just staring at Stoick. 

 _War-mongering?_ Hiccup’s father was a lot of things but he certainly wasn’t a war-mongerer. They’d fought the war with the dragons because they had to, and Hiccup had put a stop to it. Then the war with the Berserkers had come about because of Dagur. The war with the Dragon Hunters was Ryker’s fault. None of it was Stoick’s.

“His reign has been littered with wars, and you think he has nothing to do with that?” Viggo asked. So he wanted to turn them against Stoick as well. It was a good tactic, but it was absolutely horrible. “Or that his son doesn’t either?”

More talking. Then shouting started up. Viggo raised a hand, and the hall steadily fell into silence. Hiccup couldn’t tell whether or not Viggo was swaying the crowd. Some people seemed angry, but at him and Stoick, or Viggo, that was the question.

“But it is no matter,” Viggo said, lowering his hand. “Because I am going to put a stop to it. Stoick and I have come to an agreement. Though he has been deposed as chief, he will be an advisor, of sorts, to help acclimate you to my rule. With my rule and your former chief by my side, nothing will stand in my way.” He clapped his hands together. “And, that goes for any sort of rebellious thoughts any of you may be having.” He gave a hand signal to the guards at the doors. They moved to open them, and Hiccup’s gut dropped. What was Viggo going to do? Surely it would have to be some sort of spectacle to prevent rebellion. 

Ryker strode in, leading guards who were pulling along Astrid, Tuffnut, and Snotlout. Hiccup’s eyes went big. What was going to happen? He looked to Viggo for some sort of explanation, but he wasn’t looking at him, was watching as the crowd was forced to part to let the guards and their prisoners through.

“Take this as an example to all of what will happen if any of you defy me. Thirty lashes for each of the Dragon Riders.” Viggo pointed at Astrid. “Except her.” He beckoned with a finger, and her guard yanked her up onto the dais, within Viggo’s reach. She gave him a glare that would have made him drop dead if looks could kill. 

“Thirty?!” Hiccup cried, forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to speak. “Viggo, that’s too many!”

“Forty, then!” Viggo called out. “Hiccup has seen fit to add to their punishment it would seem.” Tuffnut and Snotlout were each being chained to one of the large pillars, their sides to the doors and the dais, their backs to the center of the hall. The clothing on their top halves was being torn off of them, and Hiccup could see two, cruel-looking men with whips assigned to each of them.

“Why not whip me with them?” Astrid asked Viggo. She nearly spit it. “Think I can’t take it?”

“Oh, it’s not that,” Viggo told her. “I’m very sure you could. I just have something special planned for you.” He reached out to touch her, and Astrid suddenly bit him. He gave a cry, reared back, and backhanded her across the face. Blood flew from the impact of his rings, and Astrid went down to the ground where she didn’t move. She was unconscious.

“Astrid!” Hiccup stood, was about to go to her, but was stopped by Viggo grabbing him by the chin. His eyes were fierce.

“If you say another word, I’ll kill Tuffnut and Snotlout in this very hall, and then you’ll have more reason to despise it. Sit down and do not move.”

Hiccup wished he could say something, wished he could defy Viggo’s order, but he knew that right now, the game was serious. He had to do as he said. Without another word, looking demure, he sat back down.

Ryker came and stood beside Hiccup as a guard conferred with Viggo.

“So he saw fit to dress up his doll,” he said.

Hiccup said nothing, watched as the guard took Astrid into his arms and made to leave the hall. Where was he taking her? What were these special plans that Viggo had for her? The horrible pit in his stomach only deepened. This day was horrible, and the worst had yet to begin.

Viggo sat back down, gave a wave of one hand, blood dripping off his rings. “You may begin.”

Tuffnut and Snotlout were whipped almost simultaneously. They shouted with it, blood blooming on their backs, and Hiccup cringed, lowered into himself as best as he could. He didn’t care about looking dignified up here. Like he’d said, Viggo had taken all of his dignity.

That was one. They screamed with the second, and the third, and the fourth, and so on. Hiccup hated how their backs looked when it got to ten, but knew that it was going to be much worse, and part of that was his fault because he’d opened his stupid mouth. Tears welled in his eyes.

By fifteen he was shaking, hands clutching tightly to the armrests of the chairs. He didn’t know what he would do with them if he wasn’t holding on to something. He looked to Viggo. He wanted to hit him, attack him, spring on him and choke all the breath out of him. Viggo looked at him, smiled, and brushed a tear from his cheek. It did nothing. More fell. 

Twenty and Hiccup was sure that he would hear Tuffnut and Snotlout’s cries in his sleep. Gods, he hoped they wouldn’t hate him for this, hoped they wouldn’t see this as his fault. Blood soaked their backs and into their pants. Hiccup wanted to scream.

Thirty. He didn’t know how he wasn’t sobbing out loud. Maybe for fear that Viggo would take it as speech or an attempt at it and raise the punishment. Could fifty lashes be survived?

Thirty five. Tuffnut slumped down against the pole, and he didn’t even flinch or cry out with the next blow. He was unconscious, but the Hunter would finish doling out his punishment anyway.

Snotlout made it to thirty nine before losing consciousness. The last lash brought no reaction from him.

Hiccup was just heaving breaths in and out, looking back and forth between his injured friends. His fault. This was all his fault. If they hadn’t been captured trying to get him, if he hadn’t opened his mouth…

The crowd just stared at the two Dragon Riders in shocked silence. Hiccup looked around Viggo to his father, saw tears on his face as well, his hands clenched till his knuckles were white. The veins bulged in his neck and anger flared in his eyes. He could see just how badly he wanted to kill Viggo for this, but neither of them could act against him without bringing harm to someone else or themselves.

“That is the punishment that befalls anyone who rebels against me,” Viggo said clearly, still sitting in his horrific throne. “And if Hiccup here steps out of line, I’m quite certain one of you will pay the price for it.”

Eyes on him, hard, staring. Hiccup swallowed past the ache in his throat. They hated him. Gods, they hated him.

Viggo stood. “Now, get back to work. And keep my words in mind.”

People began to file out of the hall, talking in hushed voices, very different from how they had come in. Viggo looked to Tuffnut and Snotlout, then Hiccup.

“Don’t cry, my dear. You knew what would happen if you spoke.”

Hiccup opened his mouth, but still said nothing. He hadn’t been told he was allowed to.

“Ryker, take him back to my quarters,” Viggo ordered of his older brother. “I have to discuss food and supplies with Stoick.”

“You got it. Anything special you want done with him when we get there?”

“Make sure he undresses,” Viggo ordered. “And chain him up.” 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are gonna hate me for this.

“Why is Astrid here?” Hiccup asked, mouth having gone dry. She was chained to Viggo’s bed by her wrists and ankles. There was blood and bruising on her face. She was still out cold. 

“None of your business.” Ryker shoved him. “Undress.”

“ _ Why  _ is she in his bed?” Hiccup’s heart fluttered. Dread pumped black through his veins. He couldn’t. No, no, he couldn’t. He  _ wouldn’t _ .

“You heard what Viggo said.” Ryker sounded like he was getting frustrated. “Clothes  _ off. _ ”

Hiccup took his cape off with shaky fingers and put it on the table behind him. Then he bent to take off his boot. He knew he was no match for Ryker, but if he got to Astrid fast enough…

He lunged for the bed, grappling with the chains, pulling on them hard, hoping he could break the wood and get her out of them. Ryker moved in the next instant as well, and he was grabbing Hiccup around the middle and hauling him off. His grip hurt his stitches.

“No! Let go of me! Let her go! It’s me he wants! It’s me!”

Ryker squeezed him hard, and Hiccup went limp in his arms with a cry of pain. 

“Wh-what does he want with her?” he asked.

“He didn’t tell me,” Ryker answered, and he sounded like he was being honest. Hiccup knew that Viggo and Ryker’s relationship wasn’t one of brotherly love and that they kept secrets from each other. “Now undress before I do it for you.”

Hiccup realized he’d been defeated. There was no getting out of this. The dread as Ryker chained his wrists to hooks in the ceiling wasn’t about him. It was about Astrid. Viggo could do whatever he wanted with him, but he just wanted him to keep his hands off of Astrid.

After making sure he was chained securely, Ryker left, and all Hiccup could do was stand there and stare at Astrid. Her right cheek, the one Viggo had hit, was turned towards him, her head to the side. He wanted to wake her, but he also didn’t want her to panic either. He didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but the sun had actually set by the time Viggo entered. It would be rising again in about a half hour, but at least night time was coming back. 

“What do you want with her?!” Hiccup demanded upon Viggo’s entrance. He twisted in his chains to face him as best as he could. 

Viggo  began taking off his cape, looking as calm as ever. “A chief needs heirs, does he not?”

Hiccup’s jaw dropped and he felt like he would have collapsed if not for the chains holding him up.

“No.”

“Indeed.” He smirked at him.

“ _ No _ .”

Astrid gave a small groan, a sign that she was waking up. Viggo went around Hiccup, dropped his cape on the table beside his. “Oh, looks like our guest is waking up.”

“ _ Don’t. Touch. Her. _ ”

Viggo rolled his eyes. “Hiccup, you know how this sort of thing works. For one to have a child one must-”

“Shut up!” Hiccup didn’t want to hear this from him. “Let her go!”

“Ungh.” That was Astrid. She turned her head, looked at Hiccup, squinted. Then she looked at Viggo, who was just standing over the bed with his hands clasped behind his back. She yanked hard on her chains, suddenly realizing what position she was in. Her eyes narrowed and she glared. “What do you want?” she demanded of Viggo.

Viggo reached down to touch her face, but changed his mind, remembering how she’d bitten him. Instead, he trailed a hand over one forearm. Hiccup yanked on his chains, let out a growl of anger.

“Don’t touch her!”

“Well, I must if I want heirs.”

Astrid’s eyes went big. For a moment she was frozen, but then she was fighting as hard as she could, yanking on her chains, thrashing. A scream rent itself from her throat. Viggo merely watched all this and laughed. 

Hiccup gauged whether or not he was within range to kick Viggo. He attempted it with his prosthetic, hitting him in the back of the leg. Viggo cursed and fell to one knee. Hiccup didn’t have time to feel satisfied. Viggo spun around, hand going to his throat, cutting off his air. Hiccup’s eyes went big as he found that he suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Do you want to keep your prosthetic or crawl around at my feet like a dog?”

Tears stung in Hiccup’s eyes from the pain of his hold and the thought of being brought down to that level. He knew Viggo would do it too, would keep his prosthetic away from him and make sure he crawled on a leash.

There must have been some sort of answer in Hiccup’s eyes, because Viggo released him. He rubbed the back of his leg as Hiccup gasped for breath, then turned back to Astrid, who was watching all of this with big, tear-stricken eyes. Hiccup felt like he was going to die. He’d just watched two of his friends be whipped to unconsciousness, and now he was going to witness the rape of the person he loved. Viggo was so cruel it stabbed ice into his stomach and made his heart hurt. How could someone  _ do  _ any of this? 

“Viggo,  _ please _ ,” Hiccup sobbed. “Please don’t do this.” He was quite certain that Astrid wouldn’t lower herself to begging, but he was long past that point, had been for a while now.

“I only like your begging, Hiccup. Please keep doing it.” Viggo was climbing onto the bed and Astrid thrashed, chains rattling.

“Get off me, you son of a bitch!”

“Now, don’t insult my mother like that. I’m sure she didn’t know what she’d made.” Viggo chuckled, hands going for a knife on his belt. Astrid looked ready to rip his face off with her teeth, but he wasn’t anywhere near her teeth, was kneeling above her.

“Viggo, stop!” Hiccup shouted as he drew the knife and began using it to tear through Astrid’s skirt. He wished he could stop this by the force of his voice alone, but no, he was just as helpless as Astrid. His words weren’t going to do anything.

Astrid screamed as her skirt was torn off of her, struggled some more underneath Viggo. Viggo sheathed his knife, began undoing his belt. Hiccup couldn’t help flinching when he tossed it to the floor, remembering vividly why he needed stitches and bandages. At least he didn’t look like he was going to hurt Astrid the same way. He had no weapons on him now.

“Come now, dear,” Viggo said in what seemed like his attempt at a soothing voice. “This can be pleasurable if you let it be.”

“Choke on a spear!” Astrid spat at him.

Viggo responded with a growl and a slap, luckily with the palm of his hand, so Astrid didn’t get the impact of the stones in the rings this time. She sobbed, and then her eyes fell on Hiccup. They were so scared, so pleading, but there was nothing he could do. He felt like something inside him was breaking. 

Astrid kept staring at Hiccup, just made a whimpering sound as he began pulling down her leggings. Hiccup didn’t know what to say to her. His mouth was dry and his throat felt like it was closing up. He couldn’t just tell her it would be okay, because none of this was okay, not in the slightest. And he’d been raped by Viggo before. He knew it wouldn’t be okay. There was nothing remotely right about being defiled by this horrible man. He couldn’t even be called that. He was just a monster.

“Viggo, please,” Hiccup said, eyes still on Astrid’s. “Just… take me instead.”

“That’s funny, Hiccup, but you can’t get pregnant.” 

Hiccup had to play a different card. He looked at Viggo now.

“But I thought I was yours.” He put some anger in his voice, some jealousy. Maybe Viggo would think he was actually jealous of the attention Astrid was getting. This whole thing was making him sick.

Viggo didn’t look at him, was running hands over Astrid’s hips, pushing her shirt up as he did so.

“I thought I was yours!” Hiccup snapped. “You told me I belonged to you!”

“You do.” Viggo wasn’t looking at him. “As will she, but you will both belong to me in very different ways. I want you for my own desires. I want her for necessity.” 

Tears fell hot from Hiccup’s eyes.

“No, no,  _ please _ . Take me instead. Please.”

“Maybe later,” Viggo said. “But for now, I will have her, and you will bear witness.”

Viggo ran his hands over Astrid’s bare thighs, and Hiccup could see that she was trembling. He didn’t know where to look. Her expression was killing him. 

Astrid gasped and jerked as one of Viggo’s hands dipped between her thighs, and Hiccup choked on a sob. There would be no coming back from this, for either of them. Hiccup closed his eyes. 

“Hiccup, p-please look at me.” He’d never heard Astrid’s voice so weak and afraid before. It dug holes into his chest. 

Hiccup shook his head. He couldn’t.

Astrid sobbed. “Please.”

And so he did. He couldn’t not follow one of Astrid’s requests, especially not now. He met her gaze as she whimpered. Her eyes were big and scared. She didn’t say anything to him, just stared, and he stared back, completely unsure of what to say. 

Astrid’s breath hitched, and Viggo hummed.

“Not a virgin, I see.”

“I ride a dragon, you idiot,” Astrid said back at Viggo. Hiccup didn’t even know what they were talking about. He was still looking intently at Astrid’s face. “That’s how it broke.”

“Oh, so nothing between you and Hiccup, hm? Maybe I’ll have to make that happen.”

Hiccup didn’t like his words, not in the slightest, but he tried not to pay attention to them. His focus was just on Astrid’s face. She twisted her features, then gave a cry. Hiccup knew what had happened. Viggo was in her now.

“If you relaxed, you wouldn’t be so tight.” Hiccup saw one of Viggo’s hands come up and brush Astrid’s hair out of her face.

“Oh, so you don’t want to bloody me?” There was dark amusement in Astrid’s words, dried blood on her face. 

“I prefer not to.”

Astrid closed her eyes, scrunched her face in what could only be pain. Viggo sighed. 

“Ah, there we go.”

Hiccup hated the sounds that followed, of flesh slapping together, of Astrid grunting through gritted teeth. She opened her eyes again though, just focused them on Hiccup. She was crying, but silently. Hiccup wished he could have taken his first rape with the same amount of strength and dignity, but he wasn’t Astrid. No one was. 

He got lost in Astrid’s eyes as time went on. He felt like he was talking to her through his gaze, like she was talking back.

_ “Hiccup, it hurts.” _

_ “I know, but you’re Astrid. You’re strong. You can get through this.” _

_ “I want it to stop.” _

_ “I know, I know. So do I.” _

_ “Tell him to stop.” _

_ “He won’t listen to me.” _

_ “Please.”  _

Hiccup’s mouth opened at her request. “Viggo, stop.” He looked to him now though he didn’t want to, saw him bent over Astrid with his hands on her hips, his own moving in strong, steady thrusts. 

“Not now, Hiccup. You’ll get your turn.”

Hiccup had to swallow back bile. That was hardly the reason he wanted him to stop. He didn’t want a turn with Astrid. Not like this. Not now. 

Hiccup met Astrid’s eyes again.

_ “I’m sorry.”  _ He felt like he wasn’t allowed to speak to her out loud.

_ “It’s okay. You tried.” _

_ “What does he mean by-?” _

_ “Don’t think about that.” _

It felt like an eternity passed in the cerulean of Astrid’s eyes, and then Viggo was groaning, she was letting out a hiss, and it was over. Viggo pulled himself off of her, laughing. He wiped sweat off his brow, putting himself away with his other hand. “Oh, look at the two of you! So in love, aren’t you?” He came up to Hiccup, breaking his eye contact with Astrid. “That’s alright. As long as you’re still mine, yes?”

Hiccup’s lip trembled, but there was only one answer. “Yes.”

“Good.” Viggo patted him on the cheek much too hard. Then, he was going around Hiccup and picking up something from the table. Hiccup hadn’t seen them before. Keys.

_ Please unchain Astrid, please unchain Astrid. _

But Viggo didn’t. Or, at least not yet. He went over to Hiccup, took him out of one cuff, and then the other. He left the shackles hanging from their hooks in the ceiling. That didn’t leave a good feeling in Hiccup’s stomach.

“What?” Hiccup asked, confused, rubbing his wrists.

Viggo shoved him in the shoulder, towards the bed. “Your turn.”

Hiccup whipped around. “ _ Excuse  _ me?”

“You must have wanted a go at her, so have it.” Viggo gestured to Astrid, still chained and vulnerable in his bed. 

“But…” Hiccup stood straight, not caring about his nudity. “What happens if I say no?”

“You’re not allowed to say no,” Viggo told him. “You know that.” He was picking his belt up from the floor, putting it back on. “Besides, I think it would be fun to watch.” 

“I’m not- I can’t.” Viggo would know what Hiccup meant. He could see that he was flaccid. Nothing about this could arouse him in the slightest. 

“I can help you with that.” Viggo was reaching for another thing on the table beside Hiccup’s folded clothes: a syringe. Hiccup’s breath picked up.

He swallowed, wanted to tell him no, to stop, to not do this, but he had no choice but to let Viggo come over, tilt his head to the side, and insert the needle into his neck. The first few seconds of the aphrodisiac hurt like it always did. Hiccup hissed at it, but didn’t even flinch as Viggo took his cock into his hand. Tears dribbled down his face as he felt the burning through his body. He was going to want sex now, and Viggo wanted him to use Astrid to sate himself. He thought he’d hated Viggo before, but this rage felt burning new, as fierce as the sun that was now rising bright and orange through the window.

Hiccup tried taking it quietly, but a small, breathy moan escaped him as he began to harden in Viggo’s hand.

“That’s it, darling.” Viggo caught his bottom lip with his teeth. “That’s it. Now think of her. Don’t think of me.”

Suddenly, Viggo had his hand on his shoulder, was turning him around, shoving him towards Astrid. He fell on the bed over her, and he moved to get up, but he felt Viggo’s boot on his rear end. 

“You  _ will  _ couple with her,” Viggo told him. “I want to watch.”

Hiccup worked up his courage, heart pounding. The lust racing through his blood didn’t matter, not when it came to Astrid all vulnerable and hurting like this. “No.” He met Astrid’s eyes, silently told her he would take any punishment to himself over this. Astrid gave a little shake of her head. She didn’t want Hiccup to hurt. 

“What was that?” Viggo asked, daring Hiccup to repeat himself, but also giving him the opportunity to get out of punishment. 

Hiccup wanted to straighten off of Astrid, but Viggo hadn’t moved his foot off of him. It pressed down harder, began to hurt.

“I said  _ no _ .”

The foot came off of him, but then there was a hand ripping at his hair and tearing his head up. 

“Do you want me to whip you like your friends? I’d fuck you after too, fuck you all covered in blood. Then I’d just leave you there, stick something in you to keep your hole nice and open for me so I could fuck it whenever I wanted. Does that sound nice?” Viggo’s words were tinted with anger.

“I’ll take it over this.”

“Hiccup, no!” Astrid cried. “Please, just- It’s okay! I swear it’s okay!”

Hiccup’s eyes flitted to her. “But-”

“It’s okay, I swear.” Her eyes said words her mouth didn’t.  _ “I don’t want him to hurt you.” _

Hiccup swallowed hard. His cock was aching. Astrid was allowing him to… No. She wasn’t. She was being forced to allow him to. She didn’t want this, not right after being raped.

“Do what the lady wants, Hiccup.” Viggo let go of him, and there was nothing pushing him back onto the bed, but Hiccup went on it anyway, carefully climbing over Astrid. His cock brushed her stomach and he couldn’t hold in a groan.

“A-Astrid, are you sure?” He was looking at her with pupils so big that there was hardly any iris to be seen. He was so aroused and wanting that it felt like his very veins were burning. 

Astrid tightened her lips and nodded her head, and Hiccup distinctly noticed how she couldn’t bring herself to say the word “yes.” That didn’t matter right now though. If he didn’t do this, he would be hurt, and Astrid didn’t want that for him.

Hiccup took his cock with one hand, positioned it at where he figured her entrance was. It wasn’t too hard to find with Viggo’s seed seeping out. It felt like just a slit. How was he supposed to fit in there?

But with one push he realized that he did in fact fit in her, and found himself sliding in rather easily, guided along by her wetness and Viggo’s. He realized he should have been disgusted but he was too full of lust to care. His body was going to get what it wanted.

And gods, Hiccup had never been inside anyone before. No wonder Viggo craved this from him. It felt  _ good _ , felt like velvet was hugging him. He moaned as he sank in to the hilt, couldn’t hold in a shudder. Astrid was panting. 

Hiccup met her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Astrid.”

“It’s okay.” There were tears in her eyes. “I’ve wanted this from you,” she told him. “Just… not like this.”

Hiccup thrusted, and Astrid gasped.

“I’ve wanted this from you too,” he admitted. 

Astrid let out a harsh laugh. “Well, guess we’re both getting it then.”

“Am I hurting you?” He thrusted again. Yes, this really did feel good, but he wanted Astrid to feel good too.

Astrid shook her head, but her eyes said something else.  _ “Yes _ . _ ”  _

Hiccup wished he could bring himself to stop, but he had drugs and Viggo working against him. Neither one of them would let him stop, would let him give Astrid a reprieve. The only thing he could do was make sure that his thrusts were slow. The drugs made him want it to be faster, made him want to pound her, but he didn’t want to do that, couldn’t absolutely lose himself in them like he did with Viggo. This was different. This was so different. 

_ Astrid, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  _ Hiccup had never hated himself more. He hated that he was feeling pleasure from her body when she was like this, that neither of them had any say in this. 

Astrid was acting differently with him than she had with Viggo though. She was moaning and sighing, and Hiccup realized that despite the pain, he was bringing her pleasure too. She met his eyes, mouth open, and he returned the gaze, leaned into her. Their lips brushed slightly, breaths rushing between them. Astrid initiated the kiss, bringing her head up, mouth firmly touching his. For a moment Hiccup froze, unsure of how to react. He’d been kissed by Astrid before, but recently all of it had just been Viggo. This was different. As he kissed back and resumed his thrusting, he could feel her emotions through it, could feel her pain and sorrow, but also her love for him. He entirely forgot that Viggo was watching them, that this wasn’t happening in private. He pivoted his hips faster, groaned into her mouth, hands on her hips. Yes, this felt so good. That still didn’t change that the kiss was salty with both their tears.

“I’m sorry, Astrid,” Hiccup breathed once the kiss was over. The words were only for her.

“Not your fault,” she told him. “None of this is your fault.”

Hiccup took her face with one hand, pressed his forehead to hers. His tears were still falling, not killing his arousal because of the way it had been drug-induced. That was wrong. A thing like crying should have stopped this. 

Hiccup was drawn from the sanctity of the moment by a hand trailing over his back and then his ass. 

“That’s it, darling.” Viggo’s voice was like gravel. “Use her. Finish in her.”

Hiccup thought that odd, given that Viggo wanted  _ his  _ baby from her, and that would give the chance of Hiccup impregnating her, but he couldn’t stop to question it. He didn’t want to finish in Astrid. He hadn’t asked her permission to do so.

A low growl rose from Hiccup’s chest, and he pressed his mouth to Astrid’s, went at her harder, urged on by the hand on his ass. 

From there, it didn’t take long for Hiccup to reach climax. He moaned into Astrid’s mouth, feeling her body clenching at him, the pleasure reaching its peak. Then it was over, and he rested there on top of her for a moment, breaking away from her mouth, the both of them panting. He’d just had sex with Astrid. It hadn’t been the way either of them had wanted it, but it had still happened. He didn’t know how to feel. There was a gaping hole in his chest, numbness in his heart. Had all this really just happened?

Then Viggo was taking him by the waist, pulling him off Astrid and onto shaky legs. He sat down with him in his lap, kissed him, and Hiccup just took it, as well as the hand stroking at his thigh and the other his chest. 

But then his touch hurt. He was tugging at his pierced nipple with one hand, the other going between his legs and pumping his soaked cock. Hiccup jolted and shouted, clawed at Viggo’s hands, but he just held onto him harder. 

“You must take your punishment, Hiccup,” Viggo said into his ear. “You’ve been too disobedient today.” He twisted his hand around the head of his cock, and he screamed at the overstimulation. He faintly heard Astrid calling for him to stop.

But Viggo didn’t until Hiccup was a sobbing mess. Then he was just shoving him off of him and onto the floor, where Hiccup curled up, trying to quiet his crying. His nipples were throbbing and red, his cock sore and spent. 

Hiccup was grateful when he heard the sound of a key in a lock: Viggo unchaining Astrid. He watched as, once she was free, Astrid hurriedly got off the bed and fixed her clothing, then wiped at her face. There was a wet patch on her leggings between her legs. She looked like she wanted to jump at Viggo, but she didn’t, just stood there, arms held around herself. Hiccup could see that she was trembling.

“Well?” Astrid asked, voice sharp. She lifted her head high, like nothing horrible had just been done to her.

Viggo waved a hand dismissively. “You’re free to go. Do whatever you wish.”

Astrid looked down at Hiccup. “What about Hiccup?”

“He’ll be staying with me for now.”

Astrid  _ hmmphed  _ angrily, then brushed past Viggo and left, slamming the door on the way out. Hiccup was glad she was gone. She was out of Viggo’s hands for now, could go home to her family, could wash up and rest. Hiccup, on the other hand, could do no such thing. He had to stay with his master. He just closed his eyes and pressed his head into the floor in defeat. He didn’t know how there would be any getting out of this. 


	18. Chapter 18

Hiccup stayed on the floor for a very long time. Viggo just moved around him like he wasn’t there, which Hiccup was okay with. He just needed time to not move and be ignored.

What could have been an hour or two later, Viggo called Hiccup’s name, but it was gentle, not demanding.

Hiccup lifted his head from the floor and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. He saw Viggo reclining shirtless in the bed, a smoking pipe held in one hand. His rings were gone from his hands and he looked relaxed.

“Come join me,” he said, patting the spot next to him.

Hiccup stood and did so. The warmth of Viggo’s body against his made his skin crawl. 

“What’s that?” Hiccup asked, pointing at the pipe.

“Oh, something I smoke sometimes to help me sleep,” Viggo said. He held the pipe out to Hiccup. It was carved intricately with dragons and etched in gold. “Here. It’ll help you relax.”

Hiccup gave him an odd look. Why would Viggo care if he was relaxed or not? But, he figured  _ he  _ cared, and he wanted to feel  _ something  _ good after the horrible day he’d had. He took the pipe, inhaled hesitantly. It made him cough, but then he tried again, determined. He was able to get a good drag of it, and he exhaled smoke, just the action already making him feel a little good. 

Viggo took the pipe back from him, inhaled some, puffed out smoke. He let his head rest back against the pillows, eyes closed, a small smile on his face. Hiccup hated how he looked so normal like that. 

Viggo wrapped his other arm around Hiccup, pulled him against his side, leaving Hiccup no choice but to rest his head on his chest. So normal. Like they were a couple, not a slave and master. Or, maybe this was just how it was supposed to be as this sort of slave. Hiccup wasn’t sure. 

“You didn’t have to do that earlier,” Hiccup said. He didn’t know why. It felt like his lips just loosened. 

“Hm?”

“To Astrid.”

Viggo stroked Hiccup’s arm. “I did, my dear. Hard decisions have to be made as chief.”

Hiccup didn’t say anything to that, just glowered at the blanket. After a little while, Viggo passed him the pipe again, and he took another inhale before passing it back. 

Hiccup didn’t like thinking about all that had happened. He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that Viggo had taken Astrid, or that he himself had. Was it… rape? Gods, had he raped her? He had, hadn’t he? She hadn’t said yes, and even if she had, it would have been forced. She had taken it to keep him from suffering more. He’d… oh fucking gods, he’d  _ raped  _ Astrid.

He wanted to panic, but it felt like there was a wall between himself and those sorts of feelings, and a heavy fog over him. He was relaxed even while his mind was roiling. 

Another inhale of the pipe and even that began to slow. His mind wandered, but didn’t really land heavily on anything, would just glance at something before moving on. But then, it picked something it wanted him to talk about.

“Can I ride Toothless?”

“Excuse me?” Viggo seemed shocked by the question, if he could be shocked under the influence of whatever it was they were smoking. 

“I want to ride him,” Hiccup answered. “He doesn’t have to fly. He can’t fly without the prosthetic I made him.”

“And what if he decides to fire at someone?”

“Muzzle him?” Hiccup hated saying it, but he also knew that Toothless must be hating that cell so much. He needed to stretch his wings and legs. “He needs to get out. I want to see him.”

“I’ll think about it,” Viggo told him, putting the pipe between his teeth and reaching for a book. Hiccup figured that was the end of the conversation, so he closed his eyes. He found that, even with Viggo holding him, he drifted rather easily into sleep. 

  
  


Gobber and the others had been released from Berk’s prison for the audience, and afterwards were not put back in. Gobber didn’t think this was a mistake. Viggo wasn’t a man who made mistakes. So, why had he been let out?

He was waiting outside the Mead Hall for Stoick and Viggo to finish up their discussion, distressed from what he’d just seen. He didn’t believe a word Viggo had to say about Hiccup or Stoick. He was trying to turn people against them, and Gobber wouldn’t be turned. He’d known and cared for the both of them for a good portion of his life. Besides, Stoick had already talked to him. He knew that Hiccup hadn’t gone to Viggo’s bed willingly, that he wasn’t doing anything for him because he actually wanted to. 

Ryker had taken Hiccup from the hall, but now he was back. Gobber stood when he approached him, remembering how it had felt to punch this man in the face, wishing he could do it right this instant.

“Where’s Hiccup?” Gobber demanded.

“Getting cozy in Viggo’s quarters,” Ryker answered. 

Gobber didn’t like that answer, but he knew Ryker wasn’t going to tell him anything more.

“Why has Viggo let me out?” he asked. “Seemed he thought I was hard to deal with.”

“Oh, you are, but we need a working blacksmith,” Ryker said. “Imprisoning the only one on Berk won’t do us any good.”

“Yeah, there are two of us,” Gobber said, putting hand and hook on his hips.

“Two?”

“Hiccup. He’s been my apprentice for years. He’s as good with the forge as I am. Let him work with me.” At least that would get him away from Viggo.

Ryker shook his head. “Viggo wouldn’t allow that. Besides, Hiccup can’t be trusted.”

“Oh, but I can?” Gobber raised his eyebrows.

“Not quite,” Ryker answered. Then he was going into the Mead Hall and leaving him alone. Gobber sat on the steps again, feeling desolate and defeated. He couldn’t get Hiccup away from Viggo, and there was nothing he could do to end this occupation. Sure, he could work the blacksmith shop, but he was basically useless. 

It was a long while before Stoick, Viggo, and Ryker, came out of the Mead Hall - the sun was setting. Gobber stood, but not for Viggo and Ryker, for Stoick. He was still chief to him. Viggo never would be.

The Grimborns paid him no mind, went on their own way, while Stoick stopped to speak with Gobber.

“Get anything sorted out?” Gobber asked.

Stoick looked tired and solemn. “They’re sending out ships to return with food and supplies,” Stoick said. “It’ll be a few days though, and in that time we’ll be short.” He rubbed at his face. “We wouldn’t be having this problem if I wasn’t having to feed  _ twice  _ as many people.” He sighed. “This whole thing is a disaster.”

“Aye,” Gobber agreed. Together, they began heading down the steps, no doubt for Stoick’s house. “Are Tuffnut and Snotlout okay?”

“As okay as they can be after that,” Stoick said. “Viggo allowed Gothi to go to the prison to tend to them.”

Gobber nodded, remembering that she had been the only Berkian allowed in and out. The slash on his arm was healing nicely because of her work. 

It was dark in Stoick’s house, and with all their dragons imprisoned, they had to light everything by hand. Once that was done, Stoick and Gobber sat across from each other at the table. It felt like there was a lot to be said, but neither of them spoke.

“Everything he said about Hiccup is a lie,” Stoick said. “And everything he made him do.”

Gobber remembered Hiccup sitting in Viggo’s lap and then being pushed out of it, like the Dragon Hunter was a man annoyed with his lover’s affection. He must have ordered him to do that.

“He’s trying to turn the people of Berk against me and him,” Stoick said. “So that we can’t start an uprising.”

“It’s smart,” Gobber admitted. “It’s not good for us, but it’s certainly smart.”

“Everything Viggo does is smart.” Stoick rubbed at his temple, no doubt suffering from a headache. The Haddocks tended to get them from stress. “I’m sick of him. I wish he would just leave.”

“But then he’d probably take Hiccup with him,” Gobber pointed out.

Stoick nodded. “I don’t know how to keep them separate. Even when Hiccup was here, he was, well…” He trailed off, his face turning a shade of green. Gobber figured he knew what Stoick had walked in on, and thinking of it made his chest hurt. He wanted to see Hiccup, wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay, wanted to rescue him from that monster.

“And I can’t act against him,” Stoick said. “None of us can.”

“That’s not true,” Gobber said. “I’m sure old Gobber here can do something about all this.”

Stoick gave him a very defeated look. “How?”

“I can try to act against Viggo’s lies,” Gobber said. “Try to spread the truth instead.”

“And what will that do?”

“It’ll at least give us some hope.”

“Hope?” Stoick laughed, slammed his hand on the table like he was genuinely amused. “I lost that a while ago, Gobber. Give me something better.”

“I can’t,” Gobber told him honestly, feeling sad seeing his best friend like this. “Hope is the best thing we’ve got.”

  
  


Tuffnut woke in a panic, the last thing he remembered the whip coming down on his back. He sat up with a cry, breathing hard, eyes wide. 

The whipping was over.

He was in what looked to be one of Berk’s prison cells. He’d been positioned on the cot in the far side of the small room, near the window. Peering out of it, he saw daylight. Of course he did. How long had he been out? Was it technically night time? 

His back hurt like nothing he’d ever felt before. Had they done the full forty lashes? He couldn’t remember what number they’d been at. Then the world had gone gray and he couldn’t stand anymore. He vaguely remembered being dragged here, but that was it. 

And Snotlout. Where was he? He was in the cell alone, so maybe he was in the one next to him. The one across the way was empty.

“Snotlout,” Tuffnut hissed, afraid of getting the attention of the guards. He stood, legs weak and shaking, and went over to the side of the cell. His back screamed at him for moving. It seemed to be bandaged though. Had Gothi tended to him? “Snotlout, are you there?”

“Yeah,” his voice came back, also a pained whisper. “You okay?”

Tuffnut tried not to let out a cynical laugh. No, he wasn’t okay, but at least he was all bandaged up and not bleeding.

“Yeah,” he lied. “Think Gothi patched me up.”

There was the sound of movement, and then Snotlout groaned. “Yeah, me too.” 

Tuffnut knelt by the wall, pressed his head and hands to it.

“They want us to hate Hiccup and Stoick, don’t they?” He remembered how Hiccup had yelled that thirty lashes was too much, and that they had been given more because he’d opened his mouth. Viggo wanted it to seem like the forty lashes were Hiccup’s fault.

“I think so,” Snotlout said. “You don’t hate Hiccup, do you?”

“Nah, man. None of this was his fault.”

“But he opened his stupid mouth and got us hurt more.”

“Because he was trying to  _ stop _ it.”

Snotlout sighed. “You’re right. I just… I need someone to direct my anger at.”

Tuffnut sat cross-legged on the ground. “Then be angry with Viggo. He’s the one orchestrating all of this.”

“Orchestrating?”

“Making it all happen.” 

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

“How are we gonna get out of this, Snotlout?” Tuffnut asked, feeling hopeless.

“I guess our only hope is Dagur, Mala, and the rest of the Riders,” Snotlout answered. “But who knows when they’re going to get here.”

  
  


Heather kicked at a stone as she paced. She, Fishlegs, and Ruffnut were camped out at Dragon Island where they would be waiting for Mala and Dagur’s forces. Well, they’d been waiting already. That’s all they were doing. Heather hated it. Her friends were captured and she couldn’t do anything useful. 

“Heather, could you stop pacing?” Ruffnut asked. “It’s making me tired.”

“Ugh, but what else am I supposed to do?” Heather asked in frustration. “I’m worried about them, Ruffnut.”

“Yeah, so am I, but wasting our energy isn’t going to do anything for them.”

“Whatever.” Heather grabbed her axe from where it rested against a stone. She was going to go find some trees to throw it at.

  
  


Astrid went to the bathhouse before returning home. She couldn’t imagine showing up to her family like this, smelling of both Viggo and Hiccup, their essences still on her. There were only a few other people there when she got there. She chose a bath in a secluded corner, settled down into the hot water, and cried.

It was very rare that Astrid cried. She never really found a reason to, unless it was out of anger and frustration. She’d definitely cried out of anger before, and that was some of the reason for this too. She was furious with Viggo for doing such a thing to her, to Hiccup, for ruining her tribe like this. But gods, she was also hurting. She’d never really thought this would happen to her. She’d known rape was a very real thing that she had to watch out for, but as a warrior, it had started to slip her mind. She was too strong for that to happen to her… or so she had thought. 

But Viggo had knocked her unconscious and had her chained to his bed. There had been nothing she could do, no way she could fight back. And she’d been knocked unconscious for fighting back in the first place. There had been no winning. It had been going to happen no matter what she did.

And now it had happened.

She closed her eyes, reliving the experience, the feeling of Viggo’s hands on her, touching her in the most intimate of places, fingers feeling inside of her. She blew out a breath at the memory of his cock. She’d known that the first time having something in her would hurt, but she hadn’t expected it to be so bad. He was big though. She was lucky she hadn’t bled. 

And  _ why  _ he had done that to her. She shuddered, suddenly feeling a chill despite the warmth of the water. He wanted her to get pregnant, wanted her to carry  _ his _ child. It took all of her willpower to not retch over the side of the bath. The thought of being pregnant with Viggo Grimborn’s child made her sick. And it made her burn with rage. He only saw her as a vessel for an heir. He didn’t see her as human, as deserving of respect. Just a vessel. 

Then what he’d made Hiccup do afterwards… how was she supposed to feel about that? She wasn’t mad at Hiccup. It wasn’t his fault. Viggo had drugged him and threatened him with punishment, and Astrid had made him do it to avoid the punishment. But it hadn’t been true consent, not for either of them. Was it rape? Could such a thing as complicated as that be rape? She didn’t want to think that Hiccup Haddock, the man she loved, had raped her, but he had, hadn’t he? And he’d done it because she’d told him to because she couldn’t bear to see him hurt. Neither of them had had any choice in the matter. 

It was true that Astrid had thought about doing that with Hiccup. On nights where she couldn’t sleep or couldn’t relax, she’d stick a hand into her leggings and rub her clit thinking of him. And then come morning she’d be too afraid to tell him how she felt. It was all a mess. She should have just told him before all this, should have told him years ago. 

Astrid didn’t leave the bathhouse until she’d finished crying and cleaning up. There was nothing to be done about her soiled leggings, so she just wrapped a towel around her waist and went home like that. Would her family ask about that? Or would they be too happy to see her? Astrid doubted that she would tell either of her parents about what had happened. They would become too angry, would get themselves killed trying to get revenge. No, she couldn’t tell them. She had to keep them safe.

So, when she returned home, she hugged her parents like she was supposed to, and smiled like she was supposed to. It wasn’t a good smile, but that was alright. No one had on a good smile anymore, with all that was going on. They didn’t question the towel, let her put real clothes on before they all sat down and talked. They didn’t know what to think of Hiccup and Stoick, of what Viggo had said about them. Astrid tried telling them that this wasn’t Hiccup’s fault, that he hadn’t willingly gone to Viggo, but they looked skeptical. Apparently Hiccup had tried sitting in Viggo’s lap before the audience and had been shoved off. Astrid hadn’t been there for that, but she knew that Hiccup hadn’t done that of his own volition. He’d explained everything that Viggo was doing to him. 

The conversation turned into an argument that just went in circles. Finally, Astrid stood up and announced that she was going to bed. It was quiet once she was alone in her room and she’d slammed the door shut. She sat on the bed, trying not to cry again. So people really were turning against Hiccup and Stoick. They were thinking that this was all their fault. They were thinking that Hiccup had willingly gone to the bed of the enemy. 

Yes, it was for the best that she didn’t tell her parents. Would they think the same thing of her? Would they think it was her fault and that she’d wanted Viggo? 

Suddenly, she was running towards a bucket she kept in the corner of the room for water. Currently, it was empty, which was good, as she violently vomited into it. When she came up for air, it was like she could feel Viggo’s cock in her, and so she bent her head down and emptied her stomach again.

Astrid came up, shuddering and spitting. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, rested her forehead on the edge of the bucket. She closed her eyes, groaning. 

Then she realized something and she was dry heaving. If Viggo really wanted an heir from her, this wasn’t going to happen just once. He was going to do it again, and again. And what about Hiccup? Where was that relationship going to go? How could she even speak a word to him now? She felt so disgusted. Viggo had seen her have sexual relations with someone she cared for, someone she loved. He’d violated her in more ways than one. 

“This is a total nightmare,” Astrid breathed. 


	19. Chapter 19

Viggo hadn’t even injected Hiccup with drugs and he was beginning to feel aroused. He was chained standing with his hands above him, blindfolded, and Viggo was circling around him, running a single finger lightly over the sensitive parts of his body, but avoiding his genitals. His finger just ran over his sides, his stomach, his shoulders. It made Hiccup close his eyes, lean into the touch, moan and sigh and breathe in contentment. 

That single finger was running over one thigh now. Hiccup’s lips parted in a breathy moan.

“Do you like this?” Viggo asked.

“Yes,” Hiccup responded. It felt so good in comparison to all the tortures this man put him through. His throat still hurt a little from sucking him off first thing upon awaking. 

Viggo swiped his finger along the underside of his cock, making him gasp. “I could make you come undone like this,” he said. “With just one finger.”

Hiccup swallowed hard. He believed him.

“But I want to do other things with you first.” That finger trailed over his chest, and Hiccup groaned as he circled one nipple. He felt him come close, felt his breath on his face, then lips on his own. Viggo grasped his neck, stroked his thumb over his throat, and Hiccup breathed hard through his nose.

Very suddenly, there was a crack of air and stinging across his ass. Hiccup accidentally bit Viggo in surprise, letting out a muffled sound of shock, moving his hips forward to get away from what had caused him the pain. Viggo didn’t seem to care that he’d bitten him. He just kept kissing him, and Hiccup felt a flail caressing over his ass and back. He tasted blood. His heart pounded with fear, as he wasn’t sure when he was going to be hit again, and he didn’t want to be.

Viggo pulled away, and the flail snapped against his ass again. Hiccup gave a cry and moved away from it, pulled on his chains.

“Wh-what is this punishment for?” he asked. He’d already been punished for his disobedience yesterday. He couldn’t recall doing anything wrong today, and he’d only been awake an hour or so.

“Oh, nothing.” The flail went up, dragged over his shoulders, then down over his chest. “I’m just doing it because I want to.”

Hiccup was going to say something, but his breath was taken from him as he was hit on the chest, tongues of the flail lapping at his sensitive nipples. He moaned. 

“B-because you want to?” Hiccup asked.

“Remember how I said I have a lot of kinks?” Viggo’s voice was circling around him. “This is one of them.”

Hiccup laughed harshly. “Beating people. You get off from beating people.”

“I do.”

“And do people ever say yes to this?”

“Some people like being beaten, Hiccup, surprising as it sounds.”

Hiccup gave a cry as he was hit across the backs of his thighs. Viggo wasn’t hitting hard enough to draw blood, but it still quite hurt, especially since he was focusing on sensitive places. He didn’t give him a break this time, just kept hitting him across his ass and the backs of his thighs. Then he was moving, hitting him across the chest, the fronts of his thighs. Hiccup shouted, tears coming into his eyes as the flail hit his quickly softening cock. There was nothing arousing about this to him. 

“But I see you don’t.”

Hiccup wanted to tell him to stop. The word was on his tongue, but he swallowed it down. He had to let Viggo do whatever he wanted to him, and that meant he had to stand here and take being flogged. 

Viggo didn’t stop until he figured he wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably. Then he was back to what he’d started with, running one finger gently over him. 

Hiccup panted. “Is it over?”

There was a smile in Viggo’s voice. “For this time, yes.” 

Viggo’s gentle touches coaxed Hiccup’s still-stinging cock back to hardness. He wondered if he had welts on himself, if he was red where he’d hit him. He hadn’t heard him discard the flail, so he wasn’t sure if he’d told the truth or not about being finished with flogging him. He hoped that he had.

For a moment, his finger was gone, but then it came back wet with saliva, searched between the cheeks of his ass, found his hole and circled. Hiccup’s body arched into it, and he let loose a sigh.

Viggo gently pushed his finger inside, and Hiccup felt lips on the side of his neck. He tilted his head for him like he was supposed to, moaned a little. 

Hiccup’s legs trembled as Viggo slowly pushed his finger in and out. He hadn’t even touched his prostate, but he felt pleasure from this. His cock was leaking. He wanted a full hand on him, but all he was given was this one finger that was going to drive him into madness.

“ _ Viggo _ ,” Hiccup breathed without meaning to when he nipped at his neck, his beard brushing his skin. He was managing to give him so much sensation but so little all at once. It was amazing. 

Hiccup broke himself from that thought. No. No, this wasn’t amazing. This was Viggo Grimborn and he hated him more than he hated anyone else.

Except maybe himself. 

He hated himself for what he’d done to Astrid, for not fighting, for enjoying this. He hated himself for everything that was happening to Berk, hated himself for this war.

Shame and self-loathing punched him hard in the gut, and he tried to curl in on himself. The motion had Viggo’s finger brushing his prostate, and so he moaned even as his tears fell free. 

“Something wrong, darling?” Viggo asked, mouth near his ear.

Everything. Everything was wrong.

“N-no.” Hiccup made himself straighten despite the crushing loathing for himself. He didn’t want to let Viggo see his emotions right now. That would make him seem weak. He had to stay strong, whatever strength was. He didn’t know anymore. Viggo had already seen everything, had taken pleasure in all of it.

Viggo tugged on his ear, withdrew his finger, rubbed it across his perineum, leaving Hiccup whining. A sob threatened to come loose but he swallowed it back where it ached in his throat. 

Viggo came along to his front, stroked his thighs, then just the tip of his cock with the pad of his finger. Hiccup was breathing hard, wanting release. That would feel good. That would free him from this.

“Fuck.” He’d forgotten all about his shame now with the way his cock was burning. “Please.”

“In time,” Viggo told him, a small laugh behind his words. “We have to work you up to it.”

He touched his nipples, his throat, then went back to his cock. Oh gods, that one finger was blazing trails of fire through him. Hiccup tilted his head back, pulled on his chains, moaning wantonly. 

“There you go,” Viggo coaxed, and his voice was pleasant in his ears. “That’s it.”

It took many minutes of Viggo just stroking Hiccup’s cock with one finger, but eventually, he came. It was intense and quiet all at once, had his legs shaking and his ears ringing. He came back to himself with Viggo kissing him, and he let loose a sound of pleasure into his mouth. 

Viggo took off the blindfold, leaving Hiccup blinking at the sunlight coming in from the window. “Alright, you were good this morning. You said something about wanting to see Toothless?”

Hiccup vaguely remembered that. He licked his lips, nodded. He noticed that Viggo had a small cut on his lower lip from where Hiccup had bitten him. 

“You’ll get to ride him too,” Viggo said. He began unchaining him. “You were right about stretching his legs. No flying, of course. I’ll be taking the tail fin off.”

Hiccup rubbed his wrists once they came out of the cuffs. He still felt shaky from what had just happened to him, but this was good. He’d be able to see Toothless  _ and  _ ride him! That was, if his ass could handle it. He rubbed at it a little, felt some welts there. No matter. He’d ride him anyway. He wanted to. Desperately.

  
  


“Toothless!” Hiccup flung himself at his dragon as the cell door opened, and Toothless warbled happily, gave his version of a hug, nearly crushing Hiccup with his weight. After spending every day of the past 4 years with him, it felt like he hadn’t seen him in ages, especially knowing that he’d been locked up down here, dismal and alone.

“I missed you, bud! I missed you!” Hiccup laughed as Toothless nuzzled his face. He could feel Viggo watching with disgust. Of course the man wouldn’t understand his love of Toothless, wouldn’t understand why he’d let a dragon show affection like this. But they were best friends. Why wouldn’t he?

“Perhaps you should take the tail fin off of him,” Viggo said. “I doubt he’d trust me.”

Hiccup looked to him, then back at Toothless.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, remembering why they were there. He wondered if he could just pull the muzzle off of Toothless and let him shoot at Viggo. He glanced at Viggo, could see that he saw the plan in his eyes. There was a hard look on his face, and he had one hand on the hilt of his dagger. It wouldn’t work when he saw it coming like that. Hiccup couldn’t do it.

So, he left the muzzle on Toothless and went around to his tail.

“I’m sorry, bud,” he said. “But we can’t fly.”

Toothless made a mournful sound as Hiccup began to unbuckle the tail fin, but he let him do it. 

Hiccup wished he could fly, wished he could meet up with the rest of the Dragon Riders at Dragon Island. But, that wouldn’t work. He’d be followed in broad daylight and would give away his friends’ position. For now, he had to continue doing exactly what Viggo wanted him to do.

He left the tail fin on the floor, then reached for the saddle where it had been thrown into the corner.

“Is it okay if I still ride you though?” Hiccup asked.

Toothless nodded his head in a very human gesture, made a happy sound through the muzzle. Gods, Hiccup wished he could take that off, if not to shoot at Viggo, just to see his friend smile. 

“Thanks, Toothless.” Hiccup began fastening the saddle on.

“You ask him permission?” Viggo asked.

“Of course I do,” Hiccup answered. “He’s not my slave.” He realized he’d said that very snidely, and he peered up from Toothless’ belly, hoping that Viggo wouldn’t get angry at him for that. He didn’t. He was just curiously watching the saddling process. 

Once Toothless was all saddled, Hiccup led him out of the cell, and Toothless looked more relaxed than he had been before, happy even, though Viggo was there. He gave him a look, then met Hiccup’s gaze with a question in his eyes.

“He wants to come,” Hiccup said. “He won’t be riding you though,” he assured him. “Just me.”

Hiccup, Viggo, and Toothless received strange looks from the men on the ship. As Hiccup came up onto the deck, he realized that there were less ships here at the docks than there had been.

“I’ve sent ships off to retrieve food and supplies,” Viggo explained, seeing the question on his face. “They should be back in a few days.”

Hiccup realized that it was the perfect time for an uprising, and hope sparked in his chest before quickly dying. He couldn’t make one happen. Nor could his father. The people of Berk must hate them now. Viggo had waited for the perfect time to leave Berk with less Dragon Hunters. No wonder he’d been content with Berk almost running out of supplies, despite the fact that he too was living on it. Eating would probably be sparse in the next few days. Well, not for Hiccup and Viggo, probably, but for everyone else, and that made Hiccup feel horribly guilty. He got to eat better than everyone else because Viggo wanted him to. 

They came off the ship, and Hiccup mounted Toothless. He tried not to groan as he did it, his ass reminding him of what it had been put through that morning. Hiccup knew he would be hurting a lot later, but it would be worth it. 

It felt good to have Toothless underneath him, to have his foot and prosthetic in the stirrups, to resume the usual position of dragon riding. Despite everything, Hiccup smiled. 

Viggo didn’t say anything as he walked beside Hiccup and Toothless. They skirted around the town and went for the woods. Hiccup didn’t want to see anybody else at the moment. Viggo was already too much to deal with. He wished he could go on this ride in solitude, but of course Viggo didn’t trust him like that. He shouldn’t. 

“How did you find him?” Viggo asked once they were in the forest and the only sound was Toothless’ footsteps and the chirping of birds and woodland animals. “I thought Night Furies had been hunted to extinction.”

There was a pang in Hiccup’s chest thinking of what had befallen the rest of Toothless’ kind.

“During the Dragon War,” Hiccup said, “I, uh, actually shot him down.” He rubbed Toothless behind the ears. “But I couldn’t kill him. And I couldn’t leave him without a tail fin either. We became friends and learned to fly together even while I was training to kill dragons.”

“And you changed everyone’s mind about them?” Viggo asked. “How?”

“Toothless and I took down the Red Death together,” Hiccup explained. “And my friends helped too, all riding dragons because they were crazy enough to listen to me. My dad came around too.”

“Is fighting the Red Death how you lost your leg?” Viggo asked. He was on his right, the side with the good leg, but Hiccup could tell that he wanted to take time to examine his prosthetic and maybe even the stump. That had him feeling uncomfortable. He didn’t want that. 

“Yes,” Hiccup answered. “I was out for almost two weeks after. I didn’t even wake up when they had to amputate it.” Thank the gods. He couldn’t imagine what that would have been like, going through that awake. Stoick had explained that his foot had been torn off, his leg so mangled that they’d needed to amputate to leave a clean stump. At first, Hiccup had missed his leg, but he’d gotten used to not having it. He thought it would be weird to have it again, were that even possible. 

Viggo shook his head disapprovingly. “You have too much heart, Hiccup.”

Hiccup shot him a glare. From on top of Toothless, he felt more powerful. “Oh? And that’s a bad thing?”

“Caring about people… about  _ things _ -” (by “things” he clearly meant Toothless)- “can hurt you, can lead you to make reckless decisions.”

Hiccup turned Toothless so that he was facing Viggo. “I am where I am because I care about people and  _ things _ ,” Hiccup said. “My tribe is where they are for it.”

“Oh, so you mean a slave with his tribe under enemy occupation?” Viggo asked. “Yes, that seems like quite a glorious position.”

Hiccup glowered at him. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know it isn’t, but you seemed to be getting a bit too haughty up there.” He patted him on the thigh. “You needed taking down a few notches. Remember, you are only riding Toothless because I am allowing it. I can just as easily take this time with him away from you.”

Then, Viggo walked on as if nothing had happened between them. Frustrated, but knowing his words were true, Hiccup huffed, then urged Toothless onwards.

  
  


They circled around the forest and came into town through one of the lesser used roads. Hiccup was okay with that. After how Viggo had sullied his reputation, he wasn’t all that in the mood to see his people. He was only taking Toothless into town because he wanted to see one person: Astrid. 

Viggo had probably picked up on this, and Hiccup glanced down at him. Would he hurt her again?

“You’re not planning to…”

“Force myself on your beloved when you see her?” Viggo asked. So he had known what Hiccup had come into town to do. “No, no. Not today.”

Hiccup breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want Viggo touching Astrid ever again. Though, there was a knot in his stomach. “Not today” made it sound like he would again some other day. 

Hiccup made it to Astrid’s house with nothing more than a few jeers at himself, but any look from Viggo quickly silenced them. They hurt, but he ignored them for now. He had to see Astrid. That’s all that mattered. He wanted to talk about yesterday, apologize, if he could. 

He dismounted from Toothless, looked over at Viggo, who just gestured towards the door. So he was going to let him have this conversation. Interesting. 

Hiccup walked up the front steps and knocked. It was a few moments before the door was answered by Astrid’s mother. She looked Hiccup up and down quite disapprovingly in his new, expensive leathers (courtesy of Viggo),  _ hmphed _ , then slammed the door shut in his face. Hiccup stood there for a moment, aghast, mouth open, before he tried again. 

“You will not be coming inside,” Mrs. Hofferson said quite forcefully, opening the door again.

“I-I don’t want to come inside,” Hiccup said. “I just want to speak with Astrid. Is she here?”

“And will your new lover be joining you?” Her voice dripped with disdain.

“Excuse me?”

“Viggo,” she said, lowering her voice, just in case anyone was watching, which, Viggo indeed was, but he couldn’t be seen from inside the house. 

“No,” Hiccup lied, seething. Well, he hoped it wasn’t a lie, hoped he’d be allowed some private time with Astrid. “And he’s not my lover. I-”

Mrs. Hofferson clearly didn’t want to hear it. She turned and shouted for Astrid before he could finish. Then she was leaving and closing the door. Hiccup could do nothing but wait awkwardly on the steps for Astrid.

She poked her head out nervously. That wasn’t something Hiccup had ever seen her do before.

“Is it just you?” she asked.

“He’s here,” Hiccup answered. “But maybe we could go around back.” The Hoffersons had a garden in the back of their house that Hiccup and Astrid had used to spend time in. 

“And he’d let you?”

“I hope.” Hiccup very gently took her hand, wanting to coax her out of the house. “He told me he wouldn’t touch you.”

“He lies.”

“I-I know he does, but I’ve got Toothless with me.” Hiccup lowered his voice some more. “If I tries anything, I’ll have Toothless fry him.”

Astrid looked out the door. “He’s letting you have Toothless?”

“Without the tail fin.”

“Oh.” There had been some hope on her face, but now it died. She stepped outside, still holding Hiccup’s hand. She was hunching in on herself, making herself seem small, and Hiccup understood the gesture and why she was doing it. He hated it on her. It was something he’d been doing lately, that he didn’t want to see on anybody else, because then it would be obvious to him what had happened to them. 

Astrid stayed closest to the house as they skirted around the back. Viggo could see them, but he just watched and said nothing, let Hiccup and Astrid go into the garden. He knew that Hiccup wouldn’t leave Toothless, that he would come back eventually. 

They found the log that they’d used to sit on still there between some forget-me-nots and sat down. The flowers were in bloom, pretty in blue and pink. Hiccup picked one, put it in Astrid’s hair. She blushed, but smiled.

“Had to do that,” Hiccup told her. 

For a while they just sat in silence, taking in the warm, summer sun and the breeze. Hiccup closed his eyes, squeezed Astrid’s hand, and for a moment he was able to pretend that life was normal, that he was courting her, that Berk was at peace, that he and Toothless would go for a flight after. 

“I’m sorry,” Hiccup finally said, opening his eyes and looking at her. “I am so,  _ so  _ sorry about last night.” Viggo had given him no choice, but he still had to apologize.

“I-I’m sorry too,” Astrid said.

“What? Why?”

“I made you. You didn’t want to.”

Hiccup contemplated this for a moment. She was right. They were both in the wrong here. Or… no. They weren’t. Viggo was in the wrong. He was the one who had done this.

“We shouldn’t be apologizing to each other,” Hiccup said. “It’s Viggo’s fault.”

Astrid pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes shut at his name. “Yeah.” Her voice came out hoarsely. “It is.”

“How are you feeling?” Hiccup asked, shifting to face her more. Their knees touched. 

“I’m not hurting anymore,” she said. “I just… I feel so empty. Everything feels so wrong. I feel so  _ weak _ .” There were tears in her eyes. “I don’t like feeling weak, Hiccup.”

“You’re  _ not  _ weak, Astrid.”

“Then neither are you.”

“I-”

“I know that’s what you think of yourself,” she interrupted. “That you think you’re weak for doing what Viggo says, but you’re not. You’re so strong for enduring him every day.”

“Then apply that to yourself.”

Astrid shook her head. “I can’t. It’s different.” 

“How so?”

“B-Because… Because I didn’t fight.”

“You tried. He had you chained. It’s not your fault.”

“Did you fight him?” Astrid asked. “The first time?”

Hiccup nodded. “A little.” He lifted up his shirt to show her his bandages. “It’s why he hit me with his belt.”

Astrid winced at that.

“But you did what you could, Astrid. It’s not your fault this happened to you.” Hiccup cupped her face with his hand. “It’s not your fault it happened to either of us.” He realized that now, realized that this wasn’t his fault. If it wasn’t Astrid’s fault, then it wasn’t his. It was never the victim’s fault, and that’s what he was right now: a victim. 

Tears slipped from Astrid’s eyes, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“Do you want to talk about… after?” Hiccup asked. He meant when Viggo had made them couple with each other in front of him. He felt so dirty from him having seen that. “Did I hurt you?”

“A little,” Astrid answered honestly. “You’re, uh, smaller than him though, so it wasn’t so bad.”

“Oh.” Hiccup knew that about their sizes, but he hated hearing them compared by how much pain they could give. 

“I don’t know what’s going to become of us now,” Astrid said. “I… I’ve always liked you, and I love you, but this is so messed up. It’s not happening the way it should.”

Hiccup shook his head. “It’s not. And if you want to distance yourself from me, I totally understand.”

“I don’t think I want to.” Astrid looked back at the house. “My parents certainly do though.”

“So they believe Viggo’s lies about me.” His hand slipped from her face.

It wasn’t a question, but Astrid nodded her head.

“Dammit.”

“Hiccup, I’ll try to fix that,” Astrid said, taking both of his hands in hers, squeezing them. “I promise.”

Hiccup sighed. “You don’t have to. Maybe they’re right.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Hiccup spent a long moment in silence, deliberating on his words. “I… My body… it likes what he does to me.”

“That’s not your fault either,” Astrid told him. “It’s  _ not _ .” She cleared her throat. “My, uh, my body kind of liked it too.”

Hiccup looked to her, surprised, but then just nodded. They had a mutual understanding with each other of what the experience was like.

For a while, the both of them just sat in silence, and Hiccup felt like the air had been cleared a bit. That was good. 

He froze in shock as Astrid came forward and kissed him on the lips. He just blinked in shock before realizing that he wanted to kiss her back. He did, closing his eyes, taking her face in his hands. 

He didn’t know how long he and Astrid kissed for, but it was very much needed, for the both of them. They came apart, panting, lights in both their eyes. For once, the both of them were smiling.

“I should go back inside,” Astrid said, standing. There was a back door that she could go through, so she wouldn’t have to go around the house and see Viggo.

“Yeah.” Hiccup didn’t want this moment with her to end, because then he would just have to go back to Viggo, but it couldn’t go on forever. He stood, gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. “You’re strong, Astrid. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“And you’re the strongest person I know.”

They hugged, hard and lovingly, and Hiccup adored it. When it ended, and Astrid went inside and he went back to Viggo, he was standing straighter than he had been, feeling more confident.

“Have a good talk?” Viggo asked. He was standing with his hands folded behind his back, looking as patient as ever.

Hiccup didn’t say anything to him, just mounted Toothless, ignoring the pain in his backside as he did so. Though, it took some shifting to get comfortable on him. 

“We can go back now,” Hiccup said, taking the hand holds on the saddle. He hated saying that. It condemned Toothless to a cell. He pet him lovingly on the head. 

The way back to the docks took them through the main part of town, where there were more people gathered. Hiccup cringed at the cruel things some of them shouted at him.

“Whore!”

“Cock-sucker!”

“You betrayed us for a cock!”

Viggo didn’t say anything to any of this, just let the people hurl their obscenities at Hiccup. Though, someone hurled something very physical at him. A stone hit him hard just above his right ear, knocking him right off of Toothless and to the ground at Viggo’s feet. He lifted his head, tried to say something, but pain rocketed through his head and he blacked out.


	20. Chapter 20

“Who just threw that?!” Viggo shouted in anger. Toothless was rearing on the crowd. Even with a muzzle it was fearsome, its claws gleaming in the sun. 

Viggo stalked over to a group of men cowering in front of the Night Fury. They seemed culpable given their reaction. Dragon Hunters and Berkians alike were gathering at the commotion. Viggo didn’t like leaving Hiccup alone, unconscious on the ground like that, but he’d return to him once this was sorted out. 

“Who. Threw. It?” he intoned threateningly.

The men said nothing, just stared at him.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll take this muzzle off this Night Fury and have it blast each of you to bits. Does that sound nice?” Viggo knew he was intimidating all on his own, but he honestly had to thank Toothless for the extra factor. It was so protective of Hiccup that it would attack a Berkian for him. 

“I-It was me,” the man in the middle said, stepping forward, being brave. “I threw the stone.”

“Mm, I see.” Viggo looked him over. “Now, what are we going to do with you?” He liked dragging these things out, liked seeing the fear in his victims’ eyes. 

The man said nothing. Viggo didn’t expect him to. The Berkian just made himself look smaller in front of him, and Viggo loved that. 

In a swift motion, Viggo drew his sword and stabbed it through the man’s gut. He choked and his eyes bugged out, hands going to frame the blade. He looked down at himself, at the blood blooming on his tunic, then stumbled backwards off the blade and fell.

Viggo said nothing. All the Berkians around him had gotten the message. Touch Hiccup and face death. 

He sheathed his bloodied sword, then grabbed the Night Fury by the muzzle, hauled it in the direction of a few Dragon Hunters. “Put it in its cell on my ship,” he said. “Take off its saddle.” 

The beast seemed to not like that. It reared its head and kicked as Hunters took ahold of it. There were too many of them for it to fight off without its plasma though. It tried moving towards Hiccup’s unconscious form, but was stopped by blades.

Viggo crouched, took Hiccup into his arms. His head lolled. There was blood on him. 

Just to appease the Night Fury, he looked it seriously in the eye. “I’ll take care of him,” he promised. He would. He didn’t want Hiccup hurt like this. The stone had come out of nowhere. He’d been sitting in the saddle one moment and then on the ground the next. Viggo was genuinely worried about him, but he didn’t want to show it, not in front of so many people. 

The dragon seemed to calm a little at his words, and he watched as the Hunters began to take it away. Confident that it would be secured in its cell, he began heading towards the Haddock household with a quick stride. Hiccup was completely boneless in his arms. 

Not bothering to announce himself, Viggo shoved open the door with his foot and stepped inside. Stoick and Gobber were sitting together at the table, and they both stood when he entered.

“What the Hel happened?!” Stoick roared, seeing Hiccup unconscious in his arms.

Viggo began to make his way up the stairs. Hiccup needed his bed and to be looked over. “Someone threw a stone,” Viggo answered.  _ Don’t be frantic,  _ he schooled himself. He couldn’t show that he really cared, not in front of these people. “It hit him in the head.”

Viggo settled Hiccup onto his bed, tilted his head to the side to see the wound. It was a bloody mess above his right ear, his hair matted together with scarlet.

“Gobber, go get Gothi,” Stoick ordered, coming up the stairs as well. “We’re going to need her.”

Stoick rushed over to Hiccup’s side, looked at him, grabbed his hand. 

“Who did this?” he asked, anger clear in his voice. Viggo didn’t mind. It wasn’t directed at him for once. Let him be angry. Viggo was too.

“Someone who now needs a grave.” Viggo sat on the end of the bed as Stoick took the chair. Stoick shot a glare at him, but Viggo didn’t move. He had the right to be here. This was his slave… and lover. Viggo hadn’t admitted that to anyone but himself yet. He found that, oddly enough, he did care for Hiccup, not just as his property, but as a person. He was still a toy though, someone to be tamed and played with. He could be all of those things at once. 

“We have to stop the bleeding.” Stoick stood, began looking around the room for something to do that with. He found a cloth near the washbasin, came back, and pressed it to Hiccup’s head. Hiccup groaned quietly, but didn’t wake. Now, Stoick set a heavy, angry gaze on Viggo. “This is your fault.”

“Please enlighten me as to how. I did not throw the stone.” Viggo spread his hands in innocence.

“Yes, but you stirred up hatred,” Stoick said, shaking his head. “You made them do this to him.”

Viggo wasn’t one to feel guilt or remorse. He was very unaware of what that felt like. This couldn’t be it now, could it? Stoick was right. He’d riled up the people of Berk, had turned them against Hiccup. It was because of his doing that Hiccup was now hurt and unconscious on the bed. 

Viggo said nothing in return to Stoick. There were no words. Stoick got a satisfied look in his eyes. He’d won this one. 

It was a long time before Gobber returned with Gothi, and it was a long time to get her up the stairs. The sound of her staff hitting the wood as she hobbled up grated on Viggo’s nerves. Why couldn’t Berk have a younger sage that could move faster?

Gothi came over, didn’t look at either Viggo or Stoick. She pushed Stoick out of the way and took the cloth off of Hiccup’s head. She leaned down to squint at the wound. 

Gothi shook her head. She turned to Stoick, made hand signals at him that Viggo couldn’t understand, but wished that he could. He was well-versed in many languages and he hated that this old crone had to use one that wasn’t spoken. 

“I order you to tell me what she’s saying,” Viggo said coolly. Yes, he had to remain outwardly calm and in control, appear unworried. 

Gobber scratched his head, looking concerned. “Well, she needs to look longer, but it’s for sure a concussion. She’s afraid his skull might be cracked.”

“What does that mean for Hiccup?” Viggo asked.

Gothi made more hand signals at Gobber and Stoick, even though it had been Viggo who had asked the question. That irked him. 

“Lots of recovery time,” Stoick answered. His face drained of color, and he sat hard on the bed, put his head in his hands.

“What? What is it?” Viggo’s heart jumped, his stomach tightening. Is this what it felt like to care about someone and be connected with them? He didn’t like it. How did people deal with this?

“Possibly memory problems,” Stoick answered. “She can’t say how severe they’re going to be or if it’ll even happen. We’ll just have to see.”

Viggo sat back a little, swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say. Memory problems? Two different parts of him reacted at that, and he didn’t know what to do with it. One, the normal part of him, suggested that he could work with that, could manipulate Hiccup more with that. Another grew sad and worried for him, didn’t  _ want  _ him to have memory problems. Viggo sighed. He would just have to wait for Hiccup to wake then.

Viggo stood. He couldn’t wait by Hiccup’s bedside for him to wake up. He had things he had to be doing. He straightened his tunic.

“Send for me when he wakes,” he ordered, hoping said order would be followed. Then, shoving down emotions that he had no idea how to deal with, because he’d never really cared about someone before, he left the house. 

  
  


Astrid ran to the Haddock household, knocked frantically on the door. It wasn’t long before it opened.

“Astrid.” It was Stoick. He stepped aside. “Come in.”

She’d run there after she’d heard the news about Hiccup. She was afraid, hadn’t wanted to leave her house, but this had made her do so. She cared about Hiccup too much to just stay in her house due to fear. Her heart was pounding and she felt cold, but the fear could wait. Hiccup was more important. 

“How is he?” Astrid asked as Stoick closed the door behind her.

“Still unconscious,” Stoick said. “But Gothi told us that he’ll wake up in a day or two.” It was easy to see how heavy his heart was when he said it.

Astrid went up the stairs, saw Hiccup laying unconscious on his back in his bed, bandages wrapped around his head. Blood had bloomed through them, just above his right ear. 

“What did Gothi say?” Astrid asked of Stoick, who had followed her up. She went to his side, took his limp hand in hers. She was so glad it wasn’t cold. 

“His skull is cracked,” Stoick answered. “He has a concussion. When he awakes he could have… memory problems.”

Astrid looked at him, her throat aching, the beginnings of tears burning in her eyes. “Memory problems?”

Stoick nodded, looking like he was trying to stifle his emotions. “She doesn’t know how severe they could be. We hope that it’s minor.”

Astrid swallowed past the lump in her throat, sat down in the chair by the bed, still holding Hiccup’s hand. “Gods, me too.”

  
  


Dagur stood in front of the massed Berserkers, feeling confident now that he had been reinstated as chief. These were his people, and they needed to listen to him.

“I have some really bad news,” Dagur stated, voice clear. “Berk, now our allies, have been overrun by Viggo Grimborn and his Dragon Hunters. We need to go and help them.”

A Berserker raised their hand before speaking to get Dagur’s attention. “But, my lord,” she said, “Word has it that you worked with the Dragon Hunters while you were away.”

“Yeah,” a man near the front of the crowd agreed. They were gathered in Berserker Island’s arena, a good place for outdoor gatherings. Dagur also had a throne out here. “And you were at war with Berk before you were imprisoned.”

“Yes, but I’m working with Hiccup now,” Dagur responded, trying not to grow frustrated. “And he and Berk need our help. I got a message from the Dragon Riders that said that Berk is under occupation by the Dragon Hunters. That  _ can’t  _ be good.”

“So you came back just to drag us into a war?!” someone accused.

“What? No! I didn’t! I-”

Dagur was cut off as the crowd began all speaking at once, yelling, shouting. It made Dagur feel overwhelmed. He wasn’t used to people doubting him.

“Wait!” he called out. “Quiet!”

Slowly, the noise died down, everyone again waiting for Dagur to speak. 

“Berk is our ally now,” Dagur said. He put a hand to his chest. “ _ My  _ ally. And I cannot leave friends defenseless. Can you? Is that the Berserker way? We just abandon our allies now?”

Silence over the crowd, heads turning as people looked at each other.

“I don’t think so,” Dagur said. “Berserkers help their allies. We’re going to Berk.”

For a moment or two there was no response, but one man rose his fist into the air with a war cry. Then a hundred, two hundred, voices joined in, fists raised to the sky. Dagur smiled. He was going to help his friends, to help Hiccup. 

  
  


Astrid had to be dragged to Viggo’s ship. She fought the whole way, kicking, screaming, biting, but still, she ended up standing before him, her hands tied tightly behind her back. 

“You may leave,” Viggo said to the Hunters who had brought her. He didn’t thank them for that, and the Hunters didn’t seem to expect him to. They left. 

“What do you want from me?” Astrid asked, fierce. She had to hide her fear. She was sure she was about to be raped again. 

Viggo crossed one leg over the other, picked up a goblet and took a sip. He looked relaxed, like everything about this was normal. “You know what I want, Astrid.” He put the goblet down, smiled with the ease of a man who was going to get exactly what he wanted. 

“Am I a replacement for Hiccup?” she asked fearfully.

Viggo laughed. “No, no, of course not. There’s no replacement for him.” He stood, came over to her, and it took every bit of strength in her not to take a step back. 

“Why did you have him… rape me?” Astrid asked. That’s what that had been, and she realized, she had raped Hiccup too. The knowledge made her want to cry. 

Viggo picked the blue forget-me-not out of her hair, twirled it in one hand. Astrid had completely forgotten that she’d still had that. 

“Oh, I wanted to see what he could do with another partner,” Viggo said, looking at the flower instead of her. He then discarded it carelessly on the table. “And figured you were perfect.”

“But what if…” Astrid didn’t know how to get the words out. She felt like her throat was closing. “What if he impregnates me?”

Viggo stepped closer, towering over her, and Astrid hated it. She tilted back her head to look at him.  Viggo was tall. Not as tall as Stoick, but still a big man. It frightened her to no end. She was defenseless and bound in front of him. 

“Then I will just claim that child as mine.” Viggo reached a hand out, stroked her chin, and Astrid leaned away from the touch. She wanted to bite him, but her face was bruised from what had happened the last time she’d done that. 

Astrid hated this. She didn’t want to be pregnant. She was old enough to be married, old enough to have a child, but she didn’t feel ready to have a child. And if she  _ had  _ to have a child, she wanted it to be Hiccup’s, but what was the point if Viggo would just claim it as his? All of this made sickness swish around in her stomach. She swallowed hard. 

“Will you… do the same things to me as you do to Hiccup?” she asked. Hiccup had mentioned that Viggo did things to him sexually other than just the rape, things that Hiccup hated, that Viggo was sadistic in bed. He hadn’t said what those things were though. Nerves and fear vibrated through Astrid’s veins, ice dancing with fire. She was breathing hard.

“No,” Viggo answered. “Those… things are just for him. He’s special.”

Astrid didn’t like that, didn’t like Viggo calling Hiccup special. She wanted to spit on him, but instead she just stood there, trying not to tremble. 

Viggo went around behind her, moved some hair away from her neck, placed his lips there. Astrid was shaking now, afraid of his touch, feeling repulsed. 

“I would ask you to undress yourself, but-” he tugged on her ropes, making her gasp- “I suppose I can do this for you.”

Viggo began tugging down her skirt and her leggings, and Astrid felt tears trailing down her cheeks. She didn’t want this to happen to her, not again. No, not again.

“Please don’t.”

“But I must, my dear Astrid.” Viggo’s hands were surprisingly gentle as he pulled down her clothing, and then those hands were on her hips. “Chiefs need heirs, and I am without one.”

“Let it stay that way.”

“You know I can’t.”

Astrid grit her teeth, tears falling, deciding to stop trying to beg, to reason with him. This was going to happen whether she wanted it to or not, and she couldn’t fight either. Her hands were tied behind her back, and she couldn’t exactly run with her skirt and leggings around her ankles. 

Astrid’s chest heaved as she heard Viggo’s belt hit the floor. 

“On your knees,” he ordered, pushing on her shoulder, making her do it whether she wanted it to happen or not. The wood was hard and uncomfortable under her bare knees. Then Viggo had a hand on her head, was pressing her down so that her rear end was raised and vulnerable to him. She couldn’t help whimpering. 

Viggo pet her hair. “There you go. Good girl.”

“Don’t call me that!” Astrid snapped, angered by his words. She didn’t want to be his “good girl”, didn’t want to be good for him, but she had no choice.

Astrid yelped and jolted as she felt Viggo’s hand between her legs. He rubbed through her folds, found her clit and smoothed the pad of one finger over it. Astrid couldn’t help the moan that escaped her. This felt good, and it wasn’t fair that it did. 

“You have to be wet for me,” Viggo said, playing with her clit. After a few moments he dipped two fingers slightly into her. “Yes, just like that.” His voice was heavy with lust. Astrid hated what her body was doing, hated how it made it seem like she wanted him. This was absolutely the last thing she wanted. 

Astrid tensed when she felt the tip of Viggo’s cock against her. Apparently they were doing this quickly. She supposed that was good. She wanted to get this over with. 

“Relax,” Viggo told her, his other hand stroking her hip. “This will be easier.” He leaned over her, pressing his body against hers, lips near her ear. “This can be enjoyable if you let it be.”

“Just get it over with,” Astrid growled, not eager to discuss any of this with him. “I thought you were raping me, not making love to me.”

“Mm, I see no difference.” Viggo straightened off of her, pierced her with his cock. Astrid gasped, clenched her hands into fists. It hurt, for sure. Viggo was big everywhere, apparently.

Astrid almost started screaming and sobbing uncontrollably, but she stopped herself, closed her eyes, telling herself to calm down, to just clench her teeth and get through this. She could do this. She could. If Hiccup could take Viggo’s cock, then she could too. 

Astrid moaned as Viggo became completely sheathed in her. She despised the feeling of him in her, despised the feeling of his hips against her, his large hands holding her. It was all horrible.

But if she just closed her eyes and tried to drift away it would be over in a few minutes.

So she just did that, focused on how the wood felt against the side of her face, how the wood felt on her knees. Yes, just the wood. There wasn’t the pounding in her body, the thrusts that hurt her to her core, the hard breaths from Viggo. There was nothing but the smooth wood under her skin, her clothes uncomfortable around her ankles, and the coarse rope on her wrists. 

  
  


Hiccup opened his eyes, his head hurting badly. He could remember pain, slipping from Toothless’ back, but he didn’t know what had happened. He put a hand to his head, tried to sit up, but there was a gentle hand on his chest stopping him. He looked to the man sitting there, big, with a red hair and beard. He looked familiar, but Hiccup couldn’t place from where.

“Where am I?” Hiccup asked. “What happened?”

“You were hit with a stone,” the man answered. He tapped on the right side of his head above his ear. “Right here. You’re home right now, Hiccup.”

“Home?” he asked. He looked around very carefully, not wanting to move his head too much. He got dizzy for a moment, had to close his eyes. In pain and feeling like he was going to lose everything in his stomach, he moaned. Yes, that made sense. He remembered this room. This was his room. The drawings on the wall were his. 

After a few moments, the nausea faded and he was able to open his eyes again. He looked to the man that was sitting with him. He squinted.

“Who are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that ao3 has emojis if you’re not sure what to say in a comment! It definitely makes things easier.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot shorter than usual but I think it accomplishes what it needs to.

Stoick paused after Hiccup’s question. He’d been told Hiccup would have memory problems, but he hadn’t entirely expected them. Well, he’d hoped there wouldn’t be any. He didn’t know how to handle them.

“It’s me,” Stoick said, pointing towards his chest. “Stoick? Your father?”

Realization dawned in Hiccup’s eyes, and that made Stoick feel better. He knew who he was. He’d just needed the reminder.

“Dad.” He smiled, but then groaned and closed his eyes. “G-gods, it hurts so bad.” He tried bringing up a hand to his bandage, but Stoick gently took his wrist and stopped him. “What happened?”

Stoick swallowed hard. Hiccup had already asked that, but he’d apparently forgotten.

“I just told you,” Stoick said. “You don’t remember?”

Hiccup squinted at him. His gaze was a little to the right of him, like he couldn’t focus correctly. 

“You were hit with a stone,” Stoick said, seeing the question on his face. “Gothi, our sage, said it cracked your skull and gave you a concussion. You’re going to need time to heal.”

Hiccup closed his eyes. “Gothi.” Then he opened them again, looked to Stoick with that strange, out-of-focus look.

“Do you remember her?” Stoick asked.

“Little old lady who doesn’t talk and hits everyone with a stick?” Hiccup asked.

“Yes,” Stoick answered. 

“I remember other people too,” Hiccup said. “Just… not their names.” He frowned, furrowed his brow, looking ready to cry out of frustration. “Why can’t I remember their names?”

Stoick looked around the room, wondering if there was anything he could use to help. His eyes landed on Hiccup’s sketchbook. 

“It’s the injury,” he answered, rising to go get the sketchbook from his desk. He came back over with it, hoping Hiccup had drawn each of his friends. He sat down, opened it up, finding that the first picture was of Toothless.

“Do you remember him?” Stoick asked.

“Toothless,” Hiccup answered quickly. “I remember Toothless. He’s… Someone has him.” He tried to rise, but Stoick quickly put a hand on his shoulder and kept him down. “We have to go get him.”

“We can’t,” Stoick told him. 

Hiccup grit his teeth, looking determined and angry. “They… they took over Berk.”

Stoick nodded. “The Dragon Hunters.” He didn’t want to remind Hiccup of Viggo right now. He knew that he had to send for him, but why ruin this? He wanted Hiccup to remember the names of his friends.

Stoick flipped through the sketchbook some more, landed on a drawing of Astrid. He showed it to Hiccup.

“Her name’s Astrid,” he told him. 

Hiccup’s face reddened for some reason, and he turned his head away, as if in shame. Why would Astrid’s picture do that to him? What was in his memories of her? It had to have been something recent.

Stoick didn’t ask, just kept flipping through, trying to find more pictures. He landed on one of the Dragon Riders all together. He showed it to Hiccup, pointing out Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Fishlegs. Hiccup smiled a little looking at them.

“Yeah, I remember them.”

_ Thank the gods.  _ Maybe Hiccup’s memory loss wasn’t as bad as it had first appeared. Stoick kept flipping through the sketchbook, but stopped on something, drawing in a quick breath. Then he felt like he couldn’t breathe. His chest and throat constricted. 

“Hiccup, why is this in here?” Stoick asked, turning the sketchbook towards him. 

Hiccup looked at the picture, squinted. “I-I know him,” he said airily. “But I can’t remember his name.”

“Viggo,” Stoick told him, his mouth dry. “Viggo Grimborn.”

“I think… I remember… I was having nightmares,” Hiccup said. “I thought that drawing him would make them go away.”

“What do you remember of him?” Stoick asked, closing the sketchbook and setting it down on the bed. He was curious. 

Hiccup’s face went red again. He cleared his throat. “We were… he was… um…”

That was all the answer Stoick needed. Hiccup remembered the things Viggo had done to him. He sighed, rubbed at his face. “You don’t have to tell me. I know.”

“You know?” So apparently Hiccup couldn’t remember that bit, couldn’t remember how public everything was. 

Stoick nodded, but said nothing more. He didn’t want to tell Hiccup about the atrocities that had happened to him. Better if he didn’t know. 

“Can I see him?” Hiccup asked.

“Viggo?”

“Yes.”

“You… want to see him?” What was this? Why did he want to see him? “Hiccup, do you know what his relationship with him is?”

“Well, I… can’t quite remember? I assume that since we’re, uh, you know, that he’s my lover or something.” He closed his eyes again, put a hand to his head before Stoick could stop him. “But if he’s chief of the Dragon Hunters, why would I…?”

Stoick was at a loss. He didn’t know if he wanted to remind Hiccup of the horrible things he’d been through since Viggo’s occupation had started, but also, could he let his son think that Viggo Grimborn was his lover? Maybe he’d figure it out on on his own.

“Ugh, thinking hurts,” Hiccup said, lowering his hand, apparently unable to figure it out at the moment.

“Do you still want me to get him?” Stoick asked. He’d listen if Hiccup said no, would just pretend that he was still asleep. Viggo didn’t have to know. He’d come in and checked on him a few hours ago, but Hiccup had still been unconscious.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

So, it was with a heavy heart that Stoick left his house and found a Dragon Hunter to send for Viggo Grimborn.

  
  


Hiccup was left alone with Viggo when he arrived, though his father didn’t seem all too happy about it. Viggo smiled when he saw him, sitting by him on the bed, taking his hand gently in one of his. 

“My love, how are you?”

_ My love?  _ Hiccup thought. So, despite everything that was happening, that had happened, despite Viggo’s position, Hiccup must have been lovers with him. Why? Was Hiccup even attracted to him, attracted to men in general? When he tried to look, there were blank spaces in his memory, as if someone had gone through and just poked holes in it. It must have been from his injury. Would he gain those back, or would the holes stay forever? He suddenly grew very scared. 

“C-confused,” Hiccup answered. His head was hurting badly and all he wanted to do was sleep, but there was something important about Viggo. Maybe he would have answers for him. “And scared.” He figured he could be honest with… his lover. “I-it’s like someone poked holes in my memory,” he said. “And I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know why I’m with you if you’re occupying Berk and a Dragon Hunter, I don’t understand anything!” Pained and frustrated tears stung at his eyes, but he didn’t want to cry.

Viggo scooted closer to him, gave his hand a squeeze. “A lot of things have happened, Hiccup,” he said. “Between you and me.”

“You… we were fucking,” Hiccup said. The word felt distasteful on his tongue for some reason. Maybe because it was in relation to this man. “Why?”

“I… grew fond of you,” Viggo told him, his words sounding genuine. “I thought maybe you and I could bridge the gap between Dragon Rider and Dragon Hunter.”

That made sense to Hiccup. He’d use any peaceful measure possible, even if it was his own body.

“Am I fond of you?” Hiccup asked. That’s what he needed to know.

“Yes,” Viggo answered. “Very much so.”

“Huh.”

“What is it?”

“Just seems odd,” he told him. “I’m fond of someone else too.”

“It’s possible to like two people at once,” Viggo said. “It’s Astrid, correct?”

“Yes.” Hiccup didn’t ask how he knew. There were some vague memories in his head of Viggo telling him to fuck Astrid, and Hiccup doing so while she was chained. He felt so ashamed of himself. He’d… he’d raped her. “Why did you make me-?”

“How is your head feeling?” Viggo interrupted.

“It hurts,” Hiccup answered honestly, forgetting what he’d been about to ask him anyway, forgetting what he’d been thinking about before that. It had been something to do with Astrid, but he didn’t know what. “Is my skull really cracked?”

“It would seem so,” Viggo said with a sigh. “You’ll need time to heal.”

“And what will you be doing in that time?”

“Ruling Berk to the best of my ability.”

Hiccup was going to ask about whether or not that was his father’s job, but then remembered the occupation.

“Can I see Toothless?” Hiccup asked. He wanted his dragon to be by his side. He was his best friend.

“I’m afraid not,” Viggo said. “We had to lock him away.”

“Oh.” He said that sadly, in disappointment. He felt bad that Toothless was locked up, that he couldn’t see him.

“Maybe when you’re better, alright?”

Hiccup wanted to nod, but his head hurt too much. “Okay.” He wanted to see Toothless now, but throwing a tantrum over it would do nothing. He didn’t think he even had the strength to throw a tantrum.

“I have things to go do,” Viggo said, squeezing his hand. He leaned down, kissed him gently on the lips, and Hiccup tried not to jerk back in surprise. He didn’t know why he was surprised. They were lovers after all. He pulled out of the kiss. “You rest.” He stood, patted his hand, and then left. Hiccup was left in silence for a while after he shut the door. He closed his eyes. His vision was all out of focus, making it hard to really see things properly.

Hiccup was drifting off when there were footsteps on the stairs. He looked, took a moment to focus, and saw his father. He sat down in the chair he’d been in before. Hiccup didn’t want to talk to him at the moment, just wanted to sleep, but he didn’t tell him that.

“What did he tell you?” Stoick asked, looking anxious.

“That we were lovers,” Hiccup answered. “He said that he and I are trying to bridge the gap between Berk and the Dragon Hunters. Is that true?” Hiccup had to ask. He had nothing to go on but Viggo’s word.

Stoick looked at the opposite wall for a moment that dragged on into a minute, then two. Hiccup wanted to ask him again, but he stayed silent.

“Yes, that’s true,” Stoick finally said after a while. “It’s true.”


	22. Chapter 22

Stoick didn’t like leaving the house with Hiccup injured and asleep in bed, but he had to. He had to talk to Gobber. He was hoping he would find him in the blacksmith shop, because that’s where he was going first. The Dragon Hunters had put him back to work, and there was a big load of it to cover all the new “residents”. 

As he approached, he heard the sound of a hammer on an anvil. Gobber was working. It probably helped with anger he was feeling to pound on something.

Gobber didn’t notice Stoick as he approached. He was hammering on a sword. Stoick just waited, knowing it could be dangerous to distract his friend while he worked. 

Only when Gobber had doused the sword in water did Stoick speak up.

“How’s the work?” He didn’t really know how to start this conversation. He wanted to tell Gobber how Hiccup was, tell him that he’d lied to him. Guilt tugged at his gut, but he’d had to lie to limit Hiccup’s pain. If he didn’t remember how bad everything had been, it was for the best. He wouldn’t suffer as much as he had been.

“It’s something to distract me,” Gobber answered, turning to face him. He crossed his arms. “How’s Hiccup? Is he awake yet?”

Stoick nodded grimly. “He’s hurting. And his memory… it’s not good.”

“What does he remember?”

“The occupation, but not the bad parts of it,” Stoick explained. “He’s confused.” He put a hand to his head. “And I lied to him. What if I just made it worse?”

Gobber was coming outside of the shop, taking Stoick by the arms, walking him inside to sit down. Stoick was grateful for that, his knees week. 

“You lied to him?” Gobber asked, taking a stool across from him. “About what?”

“He thinks…” Stoick tasted bile in his mouth. He lowered his voice. “He thinks Viggo’s his lover.”

Gobber’s face turned green. “Oh,” he said, voice very small in the light of something so big. 

“Viggo told him that they’re trying to bridge the gap between Berk and the Dragon Hunters with their relationship.” Stoick felt an ache in his throat. “And I told him it was true.”

Stoick hadn’t cried in a while, but he cried now. The stress of everything was breaking him. He was a tree that had stood too long in a windstorm, and was now coming down. The gales were getting stronger. Now his son was hurt, and he was having issues with his memory, on top of everything else that had happened to him, to _them._ Viggo was destroying the only family he had left.

Gobber came over and put his hand on Stoick’s shoulder. Stoick prayed that no one would walk by and see and hear him. This needed to be a private moment. He needed this. 

  


Hiccup woke to a knock on the door downstairs. He knew he couldn’t get up to answer it. When he tried sitting up he became dizzy and fell back down. 

“Come in!” he called weakly. He didn’t know who it was, and he wasn’t really in the mood to take visitors, but he also understood that there would be people worried about him: his friends, Astrid. He didn’t know why he singled her out, why she was different than a friend. Maybe it was because of what Viggo had made him do to her, how he felt for her. They weren’t lovers though. They couldn’t be. 

The door opening, footsteps on the stairs. Astrid appeared at the top of the stairs. She looked worn and tired, and her shoulders were hunched in.

“You’re awake,” she said, coming over to the bed. She sat in the same chair Viggo had, took the same hand he had. “How are you?”

Hiccup was tired of answering this question, but: “My head really hurts. My memory is… spotty.” That seemed like a good word for it. His mind felt like fog, and it was hard to grasp onto thoughts and ideas.

Astrid smiled wistfully. “I’m just glad you’re awake.”

“Are you? I remember what I did to you.”

Astrid’s face reddened, and she looked away from him. “We discussed that yesterday.”

“Did we?”

Astrid nodded. “You… put a flower in my hair.”

“Oh.” Hiccup wanted to touch said hair. He wished he hadn’t been made to do that horrible thing to Astrid. He loved her, he was pretty sure. 

“A forget-me-not,” Astrid said. There were tears in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. Hiccup realized the cruel irony of that, though he hadn’t forgotten Astrid, just her name. He wasn’t going to tell her that. 

Astrid intertwined her fingers with Hiccup’s, stroked her thumb over the back of his hand. “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” she told him. “If Viggo hadn’t made everyone hate you…”

“He made everyone hate me?”

“Yes,” Astrid answered, looking at him oddly. “Why else do you think a Berkian would throw a rock at you?”

“It was a Berkian who did it?” Hiccup hadn’t been told that. He’d just been told he’d taken a stone to the head, not how. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Viggo killed him.”

That certainly darkened Hiccup’s mood. He didn’t like killing. And… Berkians had died already, hadn’t they? During the occupation? Had Viggo killed them? Had Hiccup stopped the death? He had so many questions, so much confusion. He felt like he was missing vital information.

Hiccup sighed, pulled his hand away from Astrid’s. He felt like he couldn’t look at her. He didn’t deserve to. Instead, he looked at the bandage on his right hand. He wondered why it was there. He could feel bandages around his abdomen too, also for a wound he couldn’t remember getting.

“How much do you remember?” Astrid asked.

“I don’t know,” Hiccup answered. He now looked at his drawings on the wall. “Seems like a lot, but could only be a little.” 

“Do you want me to tell you?”

Hiccup looked back to her now, met her gaze. Her blue eyes were so sad. Had she gone through something else other than what Viggo had made him do? Was she hurt?

“No,” Hiccup decided. Now wasn’t the time. His head was hurting abominably. “Are you okay, Astrid?”

“Yeah, just… just worried.” She wiped away a tear. “That’s all.”

Hiccup felt bad seeing her cry, and he held out his hand for hers, took it.

“About me?”

Astrid nodded. “And everything. I haven’t seen Snotlout and Tuffnut since the audience, and I don’t know where Stormfly is, and-”

“Wait, Snotlout and Tuffnut?” Hiccup cocked his head as best he could. “Astrid, where are my friends?”

  


Snotlout and Tuffnut had been dragged out of their cells to the Mead Hall. Neither of them had wanted to go inside, backs twinging with the memory of what had happened last time they were in the building, but they were forced inside anyway. There was no one there except Viggo in his atrocious throne, and Ryker standing beside it. The Hunters pulled them up to the dais. 

Snotlout decided to be brave.

“What is it you want?” he asked, standing straight. He knew he wasn’t intimidating, not at all. He was over a foot shorter than Viggo and standing below him while he sat tall on a throne made of gold and bones. 

“Oh, just to talk,” Viggo responded smoothly. His tone made it sound as if they were friends. “I want us to come to an understanding.”

“What understanding is that, jerkface?” Tuffnut asked.

Viggo inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring in anger. “First of all, you won’t refer to me as anything insulting, as I am your chief now.”

Snotlout wanted to argue that, but it was irrefutable from where Viggo sat. Tuffnut opened his mouth to say something, and Snotlout elbowed him in the ribs, wanting him to be quiet lest he earn himself more punishment.

“Second, I will let you go free to wander Berk, visit your homes, and whatnot, but if Dragon Hunters call upon you at my behest, then you are to go with them without a struggle.”

“What would we be called upon for?” Snotlout asked, stomach twisting. This didn’t sound at all good to him.

“If Hiccup steps out of line,” Viggo said, “You will receive punishment.” He looked satisfied with this idea. This made Snotlout’s heart sink. That was the way to get to Hiccup: punishing him indirectly by hurting someone else. “Though, it’s doubtful that he will at this point.”

“Why?” Tuffnut asked.

“Oh yes, no one made you aware.” Viggo shifted in his seat. There was anger in his eyes. “A Berkian threw a stone at Hiccup’s head and he now appears to be suffering amnesia from it.”

Snotlout and Tuffnut’s jaws dropped. They glanced at each other, horror on their faces. Hiccup had been so badly hurt because of the hatred Viggo had made their people direct at him. Would there be any recovering from it, reversing it. Snotlout wanted to go to him right away, but he knew he had to go home first. He hadn’t seen his parents since arriving back at Berk. 

“That’s your fault,” Tuffnut seethed. He looked ready to lunge at Viggo, and the Hunters could sense it. They grabbed him by the shoulders, held him back before he could do anything. “This is all your fault, you bastard!”

“Tuff, quiet!” Snotlout snapped. 

Viggo abruptly stood from his throne, strode off the dais to be face-to-face with Tuffnut. “I see forty lashes did nothing to quell your spirit. Would you care for some more? Or perhaps a beating?”

Tuffnut said nothing, just stared Viggo down, lifting his head to meet his gaze. He was breathing hard. 

“One more word out of you and I’ll have Ryker turn you into a pulp,” Viggo threatened, and Snotlout could tell he meant it. Ryker looked quite eager to do so whether Tuffnut followed this order or not. 

When Tuffnut said nothing, defeated, but still fierce, Viggo turned and went back to his throne.

“You may go,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Cause any trouble and I’ll see to it that you and your families will be punished.”

The Dragon Hunters released Tuffnut, and he and Snotlout left the Mead Hall as quickly as possible. It felt good to be outside, gone from Viggo’s oppressive presence.

“Tuffnut, why did you do that?” Snotlout asked. He was glad it was warm out. Neither of them had been given shirts after their whipping, had only the bandages covering their torsos.

“Because I fucking hate him,” Tuffnut responded. 

“Yeah, me too, but there’s nothing we can do right now,” Snotlout said. He was surprised he was being the voice of reason. Usually he’d be reacting just like Tuffnut, but then again, his back still hurt. He remembered the whip all too well. Maybe the pain didn’t faze Tuffnut. 

Tuffnut’s stance fell, his shoulders sinking. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“Go see your mom,” Snotlout said. “I’m sure she needs you.”

Tuffnut embraced Snotlout when they got to the bottom of the steps, careful of his back. Snotlout hugged back. The touch felt good. 

“Be careful, you muttonhead,” Tuffnut said affectionately.

“You’re more the muttonhead than me right now,” Snotlout said, pulling back. “So _you_ be careful. No starting fights with any Dragon Hunters.”

“Okay.” Tuffnut nodded, and then walked off towards his home. Snotlout headed towards his, anxiety twisting in his stomach. What would he find at home?

“Mom? Dad?” Snotlout called as he entered the house. It felt too quiet, like something was missing. “It’s me!”

His mother came rushing down the stairs almost instantly. She was a plump woman with dark hair done up in braids. She rushed him in a hug as soon as she saw him, careful of his back, but still managing to hold him close.

“Oh, Snotlout!” There were tears in her words. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Snotlout lied. He knew his back would need to be tended to again soon. “I’ve been worried about you too, mom.”

They pulled out of the hug, and she affectionately touched his face. Snotlout took her hand, held it.

“Where’s dad?”

A great sadness suddenly took over his mother’s face, her eyes big and hollow. “He’s… he…”

“No.” Snotlout felt like he couldn’t breathe.

His mother pursed her lips, tears in her eyes, spilling over and washing down her cheeks. 

“He died defending Berk,” she said weakly, quietly. “He’s gone to Valhalla now.”

Snotlout’s legs gave out, and he found himself on his knees on the floor. He couldn’t see, tears blurring his vision. He couldn’t feel his mother’s arms around him though they were there. His dad was gone. _Gone._ Sure, he hadn’t always treated him superbly, but he’d been his _father._ Now it was just him and his mom. No wonder the house had felt empty. It’s because it was. It was missing someone.

Snotlout screamed.

  


“Where’s Ruffnut?” Tuffnut’s mother demanded. They’d finished giving their hellos, and she was worried about his twin, as was he. She was in a better situation than he was though.

“She’s okay, mom.” Tuffnut took his mother’s hands. He was taller than her. Their hair was the same length and color. “The rest of the Dragon Riders retreated to Dragon Island. They’re waiting there for Dagur and Mala.”

“Dagur?” she asked, clearly surprised.

Tuffnut nodded. “A lot happened. He’s an ally now.”

“Well, good. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

  


Astrid was upset when she returned home. Hiccup was hurt and his memory had been impacted by it. How long would it last? Was it a thing that could even go away? Was he just stuck like that? 

“Astrid, where have you been?” Her mother was rushing her in a hug. “We didn’t know what to do after the Dragon Hunters took you. Your father and I were afraid you were going to be… _killed._ ”

Astrid kept herself from saying that she’d have wished for that. It was a gut reaction, but it wasn’t true. She hated what the Dragon Hunters had dragged her away for, and she hated what was happening to Berk, but if she was dead she couldn’t do anything about it. The Dragon Hunters had taken her yesterday, and today before she’d seen Hiccup. Viggo had been called upon in the middle of what he’d been doing to her, told that Hiccup was awake, and Astrid had heard despite the way she’d been blocking out her senses. Viggo had finished before going to see Hiccup, and had left her chained to his bed for Hunters to take care of. They’d seen her naked and defiled, which was why she’d looked so stricken upon visiting Hiccup.

“I went to see Hiccup,” Astrid said.

Her mother sighed, pulled away and shook her head. “Best to stay away from him.” She straightened her dress, then took her gently by the arm and had her sit down in the living room. “But what did the Hunters want with you.”

“Is… is dad here?” Astrid asked. She didn’t want her father knowing this. She didn’t even know if she was going to tell her mother.

“No,” her mother answered. “He was sent out logging with a few other men.”

Astrid swallowed hard. There was an ache in her throat and a pain in her core. 

“I can’t tell you,” she whispered. She shook her head. “Gods, I can’t.”

Her mother’s face went white. “Is it… Oh Freya, is it _rape?_ ”

Astrid couldn’t help it. She needed to tell _someone._ It seemed Hiccup hadn’t remembered, and she wasn’t going to vent and cry to him with what he was going through. She nodded, then fell forwards against her mother’s chest. “Viggo, he… he wants…” She couldn’t finish, sentence cut off by a sob.

“What does he want, sweetie?” Her mom was stroking her hair. She sounded on the verge of tears, but Astrid knew she wouldn’t cry, not when she herself was. Gods, she felt so stupid and weak for crying. Crying wasn’t a thing she did, wasn’t a thing that _warriors_ did. They got up and fought against what was wrong instead of crying about it, but she couldn’t fight it. There was no way to, not yet. 

“H-he wants a-a child fr-from me,” Astrid stammered out. Saying it suddenly made it seem more real, made it hurt more. “I don’t want it, mom! I don’t want it!” She was crying hard now, absolutely bawling, clinging to her mother like she could keep her from all the cruelty that had befallen her. “I’m not ready! I-I want it to stop!”

Her mother said nothing, just held her tight and pet her hair. Really, there was nothing to say. Not at the moment.

It took a long time for Astrid to quiet down. She sat curled against her mother, holding her tightly, shaking. She felt like a child again, clinging to her mother because she was afraid of the dangers in the world. The dangers weren’t something in her mind anymore though. They were all too real. 

Astrid’s mother gently took her chin, made her lift her head to look at her.

“Astrid, you are a strong, young woman and you will get through this,” her mother said. “You’re a warrior. You have strength beyond others.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Astrid said quietly. “I feel like he took it from me.”

“Then take it back,” her mom said. “Take it back and show him that you won’t be broken.”

“B-but what do I do about… what if I get pregnant?”

“I know of a potion to keep you from getting pregnant,” her mom said. “You’ll have to take it every day, and it doesn’t taste very good.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll do anything.” Astrid was feeling better now. There was a way to prevent pregnancy, and her mother was right. She had to take her strength back from Viggo and show that she wouldn’t so easily be broken. She could handle this. 

“Good. I’ll whip up some for you now.” 

Her mother stood, went into the kitchen, leaving Astrid to wipe her eyes. She felt like a huge weight had come off her shoulders.

  


Hiccup was quiet as Gothi inspected his abdominal wounds, then his hand, and finally his head. She made hand signals that he partially understood, but luckily his father was there and knew all of them.

“Your stitches will have to come out in a few days,” Stoick said. “And you’ll have to keep resting. Your head injury will take time to heal.”

“What are my stitches from?” Hiccup asked. He couldn’t remember being injured.

Stoick’s face went a shade paler. “Viggo’s belt,” he said.

Hiccup understood now. Viggo must have hit him with his belt, which would have resulted in horrible gashes. But why would he hit him? They were lovers.

“Why did he hit me?” Hiccup had to turn his head to the side for Gothi to clean his head wound. She’d taken the bandages off.

“It was before you were… together,” Stoick said carefully. “He was angry with you.”

“Oh.” That made sense. If Hiccup remembered correctly, Viggo wasn’t beyond hurting people. “Did he apologize to me?”

Stoick nodded, but said nothing. Hiccup would just have to be satisfied with that. He could tell he would get no more answers out of his father.

But in a few minutes he was forgetting what his father had even nodded for. He winced at Gothi’s attentions, then asked: “He apologized to me, right?” The thought that he hadn’t was bothering him.

“Yes, he did.” Stoick looked like he wasn’t going to say more on the subject. Hiccup supposed that was alright. If Viggo had apologized to him, that meant that they were getting somewhere in their relationship, that they were civil with each other. He still didn’t feel any fondness thinking of him, wondered why that was. Maybe it was his memory. Maybe he was forgetting what had made him fond of Viggo in the first place. He would have to ask him about it. 

Once Gothi was done with his head and had helped him sit up to wrap it, she conferred some more with Stoick. Hiccup lied down, too tired to be interested in what they were saying. He closed his eyes, feeling good to be in his bed. He had yet to notice the chains attached to the headboard. 


End file.
